Slow Dissolve
by Rose7
Summary: SWKotORfic: As the galaxy begins to spiral back into turmoil, Revan and her companions join the Jedi in their fight against extinction. Intended as a bridge between "Future's End" and KotOR 2: The Sith Lords
1. Chapter 1

The plot bunnies have bitten; and I can't ignore them… I'm making all attempts to fit into the KotOR 2 continuity despite not having played the game yet, which shouldn't be too much of a problem since this tale doesn't follow the specific events of the characters in that game. But I do ask, since I don't own the game, that you try and keep your reviews free of major spoilers. Thanks so much!

* * *

_The beeping of his communication device didn't interrupt his thoughts until it was near one hundred and thirty decibels._

_His only reaction was to turn down the volume and allow it to build again._

_Nothing much could pierce the thick and congested mire of his thoughts these days. Rumors circulated among the men:_

Admiral Onasi's getting older. His mind's not what it used to be-

Leave the poor man alone- lost his whole family, given his life up to help Telos, scarred in that accident-

That old man's been cracked since the war; fraternizing with the Jedi, the Sith-

_Carth smiled ruefully. Well, the last one at least had been around forever and probably would never go away. The former two buzzed around incessantly until he took charge for a while, directing workers and signing orders._

_Once he satisfied them, he could crawl back here, in his sparse quarters and struggle to remember the past that felt like it was slipping away one day at a time._

_Carth reached across the table, running his fingers over his scorched blaster. It hadn't seen battle in a number of years. Thankfully, the reconstruction of Telos had continued without any threats of invasion or attack._

_He didn't think Telos would survive another attack. _Hell, I know for sure I won't.

_Forty-five (or thereabouts- age didn't seem so important anymore) wasn't by any means too old for a soldier- it was even young for an Admiral._

_His gaze roamed from the blaster to the hand that rested atop it. Long scars crossed over the backs of his arms. He became conscious for a moment of the dull ache that was always somewhere on his body, and never anywhere he could reach._

_Carth had no memory of the attack, or of the long period he had apparently been recovering. He only remembered waking up to find that everything had changed._

_There hadn't been time to marvel at his burned skin, his missing Jedi. There was only a dead Commander by the name of Knowl, a minor civil slaughtering between some refugees from the other side of the energy fields, and widespread panic that had only been paused for his awakening._

_The beeping grew louder. Carth reached up idly with his blaster, aiming towards it and making imaginary sniper shots._

_His weapon hadn't seen battle in a long time, but it was beginning to look like that was going to change._

_Security had been somewhat lax on Telos since he had taken command. Not only because no one wanted to cower in the crumbling bunkers they had under Knowl and others, but because they simply lacked both the resources and the manpower to effectively control their borders._

_His hand tightened on the trigger. _Because of it, they were able to murder without any trouble.

_It had begun quietly, as it had everywhere else in the galaxy. The isolated death of a worker who had wandered too far into the recovering ecosystem was passed off as an unfortunate accident._

_Only later would someone recall that the first death had been one of the Force-sensitives, and that the charred wounds were unmistakably the work of a lightsaber._

_Similar incidents began elsewhere, and in greater frequency. Carth had started slowly moving more and more people off the planet, always under the pretense of some vague reconstruction need that necessitated the move._

_Back then they hadn't known how ruthlessly efficient they would turn out to be. Back then they hadn't known that the murders were systematic, that only the very few, the very specific, the very damned were being targeted._

_It had been foolish and naïve to suppose that the Sith might have died out all together when Malak fell. _

_He sighed. _It was more foolish to suppose that everything would right itself with Malak's death.

_Things did not fix themselves. The Republic was weary from the war despite their victory, and the scars could not be erased. What had been salvaged however, was worth fighting for. He would not let Telos fall again. He would not watch his family die for the second time._

_That was why they were gone._

_The beeping finally stopped, whatever underling that had been trying to get his attention apparently having given up._

_More and more Jedi began to disappear. She had tried to become a one-woman army against them, heading down to the surface with every team, watching over them despite their suspicious gazes; despite the rumors. But these Sith were far more intelligent than Malak or Bandon had ever been._

_Whatever headway the Jedi had made with the Telosians instantly stopped. She tried to convince them that the Jedi were not the threat; He had tried to remind them of how the Jedi were helping to repair their planet._

_None of them had ever trusted him on that issue. Not when a rumored Dark Lord shared his bed and a Jedi Knight with a red blade carried his surname._

_Carth still remembered when even the Council had been claimed by the widespread panic, scattering across the galaxy, fleeing their predators, sending out a mandate to all surviving Jedi to seek refuge._

That,_ he thought, _was the moment it became more than just a threat.

_And they had gone with them. Right after Dustil had nearly become the next casualty._

_"When did it happen?" He hadn't asked 'are you all right', even though he noticed the singes on his son's clothing, the sweat on his brow. Dustil would have only given him that 'I'm-a'Jedi-Knight-now-remember?' smile._

_"Near the eastern energy fields. There were two. They didn't leave easily."_

_Carth had bitten the overprotective father's tongue on, _Looks like it.

_"But they did leave," she had murmured up from her datapad, reading over the harried message from the Council again. _

_"No. They're still somewhere down there. They know we're the only ones left on Telos."_

_Revan (Katrina; she was always going to be Katrina to him) had stared out the windows of the station for a moment._

_"I'll round up security," he had begun, with a confidence he didn't feel in the slightest. "We'll send down a strike team and surprise them-"_

_"You'll be sending them straight to their deaths." She was much more blunt than she used to be, but he had found that he liked it better given to him straight anyways._

_He found himself unconsciously scanning the room for something that belonged to her, something that might still hold the smell of her hair, the small lines that were beginning to form around her eyes._

_But she had been both cautious and thorough- there was no trace of either Jedi here anymore._

I at least hope they have the sense to stick together_, he thought for the thousandth time. The hope made him feel better when faced with the reality that he hadn't the slightest clue where in the galaxy they might be._

_If he had to lose them for a time, he'd rather do it knowing they could protect each other, even if one was a headstrong and fearsome Knight and the other a former Sith Lord who had learned every lesson twice, both ways hard._

_Former Sith Lord…_Maybe this is one time being Revan might come in handy.

_Even she had changed. He had thought that by protecting her he could prevent it. But identity wasn't something a thermal detonator or his own scarred body could block._

_His son had returned a Jedi Padawan, all soft brown robes and contemplation. The woman he loved returned with calm acceptance, and he was to call her Revan._

_He would call her whatever she wanted to her face, but to the rest of the galaxy for obvious reasons, she was still Katrina._

_And now they were in hiding. And he meant to keep them that way. _

_Another recurrent noise broke into his thoughts, and he looked in the direction of the communication device he had just silenced._

_"Admiral Onasi?" he finally heard, muffled but clearly exasperated from behind his door. Carth rose to answer it._

_A harried looking junior officer stood up straight from his slouched position, saluting._

_"Admiral Onasi, we've been trying to reach you, sir-"_

_"I know. What is it?"_

_Parts of him wanted to be petulant, make his underlings subject to the whims of an aging war hero and order them to leave him be._

_But neither an accident nor the loss of two families could change Carth Onasi. He would follow his duty._

_"A ship is requesting to dock, sir." _

_He raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware our senior officers couldn't handle port authority matters."_

_"The commander thought it best to inform you, sir, considering your history with the ship," the officer continued, undaunted._

_He allowed himself to fantasize for a moment about a smiling Katrina and a rakishly winking Dustil's return. _

_"And what ship is requesting to dock?"_

_"The _Ebon Hawk_, sir."_

Well. This is rich.

_Carth straightened his uniform, and, realizing he was still holding his blaster, flipped it into its holster._

_Either good news or bad. Either way, something was again about to change._

_And whatever it was, he had a feeling he'd probably want his blaster._


	2. Chapter 2

"Another ale for you, sir?"

It was maybe the third time the Rodian bartender, who seemed determined to be friendly despite the stiff posture of the cloaked figure at the end of the bar, had asked.

The figure waved him away dismissively, taking a small sip from the untouched drink in front of him as if to reassure the bartender.

_Like I'd have seconds of this swill anyways,_ he thought, struggling not to spit the drink out.

Dustil Onasi brushed back the hood of his cloak, burrowing further into its neck and glancing around with a sigh.

What was he even doing here?

_Having doubts, Padawan?_ her voice reverberated in his head, surprising him so much that he nearly jumped.

_I'm not a Padawan anymore._

_As you repeatedly remind me. _

Dustil smirked, watching the bubbles float up from the bottom of his glass, away from the small flaky bits that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the identity of.

He didn't want to be in this bar. Even with his hair an ugly shade of dishwater blond and the folds of his nondescript clothing shielding him, he felt like a Wookiee in the middle of a crowd of green Twi'leks.

"Hit me," he heard a Trandoshan hiss in the corner, Pazaak cards laid out in front of him like precious credits.

"Care to make it a little more interesting? That is, if you've got anymore to spare," his human opponent jeered, obviously the one with the better hand.

The Trandoshan only glared at him.

"Nice Pazaak face you've got there. Bet you a Jedi's head you're bluffing." The small crowd around the human laughed with him.

_I don't think he's coming._

_If you want to leave_, her voice murmured innocently in his head, _then leave._

That was easy for her to say when she was on the _Chaser_, waiting for him to come back. Not sitting in some pit of a cantina on Ord Mantell surrounded by patrons who used "a Jedi's head" in normal conversation.

This had been his idea anyways, although now he wasn't sure what exactly he'd been thinking when he came up with it.

"An ale, please." He almost didn't notice the slightly patrician accent next to him, the only difference between it and the one he remembered a nervous quiver on 'please'.

_Good things come to those who wait, Padawan._

_Oh, shut up._

"Took you long enough," Dustil murmured, sloshing the drink around his glass.

"Pardon?" He waited for the former Sith student's once-over to finish.

Mekel finally laughed softly. "Blondes have more fun, eh?"

Mekel didn't look like he'd been under the same kind of stress that had chased Dustil and his master across the galaxy; turned his hair blond and hers grey. But he didn't look any more comfortable sitting at the bar than Dustil was, glancing around one last time before settling into his seat.

"Been keeping busy?"

'Busy' could mean one of several things. Was he still with the Sith? Had he joined the Jedi? Did he know anything more than the fear-fueled rumors he and the rest of them had been wading through for the past couple months?

The former Sith student nodded in thanks to the bartender who had finished pouring his drink.

"As busy as any of us could be nowadays."

So he wasn't with the Sith.

_But that doesn't mean he's a Jedi either._

"So the Academy's not in operation anymore?"

Mekel raised an eyebrow as if he had just flashed his Force-user identification card to a uniformed Sith.

"No, it's not," he answered in a low voice. "Too many…missing people. If there was any shred of doubt in anyone, they were targeted. Yuthura-"

Mekel swallowed, lowering his voice further. "Yuthura Ban disappeared, and the rest of the students that weren't stupid left as quickly as they could."

"And the ones that were?"

The former Sith student shrugged, lifting his glass to his lips. "They disappeared." He took a sip, immediately spitting it back into the glass, retching loudly.

'Disappeared' meant murdered.

"What about you? You never did say why we're having this little reunion," Mekel murmured, wiping his lips on his sleeve and shoving the glass away violently. "No offense, but when I heard what you'd become, I thought you'd be dead by now."

'What you'd become' meant Jedi Knight. 'Dead by now' meant another victim of the purges.

Dustil shifted in his seat, suddenly acutely aware of the way his lightsaber was poking him in the chest, buried underneath his folds of clothing where no one could see it.

"Have you completely…left your old life?"

Mekel raised an eyebrow. "Who says I ever did?"

Dustil laughed. "Come on. You and I used to trade barbs like pros in the dueling rooms, but I guess you're not as good at bluffing as you used to be."

The former Sith student's face wrinkled up in confusion.

"You couldn't know that I had left…no one knew that but…" Mekel grasped Dustil's arm, pulling him away from the bar and leaning over in his chair. "That _was_ your old man with her, wasn't it?"

He tried to picture his father, Revan, and Mekel in one of the tombs on Korriban, working together to battle that crazy old man who had taken up residence, but found that the image only made him laugh. He nodded back to Mekel.

The former Sith student took a moment to digest this, rubbing his neck and burrowing further into his chair.

"The point," Dustil finally continued, leaning forward. "The point is that I need to know if you've heard anything beyond the rumors. Some of them are downright ridiculous, like the stuff I used to see in holos as a kid."

"Like one of them is made up of broken parts of his body," he added, laughing softly, "Held together only by his fierce and evil power-"

"No, that one's true," Mekel replied flatly.

Dustil paused before reaching for his drink and gulping down another sip.

_Great._

"But Sion-"

"Sion?" Dustil repeated, tasting the name on his lips and finding it wasn't very appetizing.

"Sion's not the only one," Mekel continued irritatedly. "He's only one of many. Their predecessors, well…they left rather large boots to fill."

"You mean Malak and Revan." A couple patrons turned to glance at them momentarily.

_Didn't I tell you not to use names? Specifically mine?_ she broke in, sounding like she was in one of her 'Dark Lord' moods, as he called them.

Dustil sighed. He couldn't think of anything more irritating at the moment than having to shield his all-important questions under vague small talk and code words.

_Can you attempt not to let the whole damn cantina know you're a Jedi? _

Except maybe that.

"Is it organized?"

Mekel shrugged. "I don't know much more than what was going around before I left. It's pretty much following the normal pecking order of…their kind."

'Their kind' meant the Sith. 'Normal pecking order' meant superiority at all costs.

"You know, when you came to me after she…after Uthar died, I thought it was just another trick, that you were trying to root out spies for Yuthura," Mekel murmured.

He remembered those days clearer than any others in his life; the way Master Yuthura had watched him with new eyes as she healed from her injuries in the tomb of Naga Sadow; the way he had spent many sleepless nights clutching his lightsaber in fear of a nighttime attack; the way he had lost weight simply from the rush of blood pressure and the pounding of his heart when he had quietly tried to convince many of the others to leave; the way he had succeeded with some.

Others, like Mekel, couldn't believe that a shining Sith student could have turned. Some, like Lashowe, took it one step further and considered him a traitor and a piece of prestige.

And Dustil had fled very quickly after that.

"I guess we were both keeping our secrets during that conversation," Dustil replied quietly.

"You shouldn't be asking me about this," Mekel added. "You and your people, you shouldn't be asking anyone about it."

Dustil raised an eyebrow.

"We used to grit our teeth under lightning bolts, Mekel," he whispered. "And _now_ you're afraid?"

The former Sith student gave him a look that reminded him that -Sith _or_ Jedi- any Force-user hadn't exactly had an easy time the past few months.

"I'm sure you know of the ones on Coruscant. Basically the entire Outer Rim's been overrun…Korriban, Tatooine-"

"Telos."

Telos was a giant hazy dream whenever he longed for it; made up of trees and flowers that no longer grew, buildings that were long razed, the parent that had been there and the parent that hadn't suddenly switched.

Mekel nodded.

"Sure. Easy targets. What I've heard most recently, however, is a hunt on Corellia."

_Looking for scum on Corellia is like looking for an unsightly bulge on a Hutt's backside._

_Even if they are Sith_, Dustil thought with a wry smile.

"I've also heard of a pair on Myrkr, and there was some rumor about that demolitions rock on the Rim, Anelli-"

"That's been taken care of," he answered curtly.

_Do not give in to anger, Padawan. The past is gone._

It was a different voice that came breezing through his thoughts, a voice that made his tense shoulders relax for a moment and reminded him of what she taught him best by her death; that 'taken care of' did not have to mean 'murderous revenge'.

Mekel scoffed.

"So that's it. You're fools, all of you. If there were people systematically hunting me down, I'd stake myself out a nice rock in an asteroid field and wait until it was over. Instead you and your people are going to _try_ and find them?"

The Pazaak crowd behind them erupted into a loud chorus of cheers and indignant cursing as the underdog Trandoshan stood in victory. The human stared in disbelief, finally lunging for the Trandoshan who pulled out his blaster, lips curling back into a smug sneer.

Once it got loud; once any place got loud, it was time for Dustil to disappear. He tossed a credit towards the Rodian bartender.

"That's why you're not one of us, Mekel. Unless you'd like to change that."

The former Sith student grinned. "I'm not one of _them_ anymore, but right now's not exactly the best time for you people to be hunting for recruits." He extended a hand towards Dustil. "Look me up sometime. If you're still alive, that is."

Dustil gripped his hand, returning the grin evenly. "Good luck then, and thanks." He pulled his robe over his head, moving quickly towards the door.

Not too fast though- if you moved too fast, people knew you were running. If you moved too slow, people knew you were trying to cover up a need to run.

He was shoved brusquely to the side as the losing human Pazaak player jostled past him. The human paused, turning to give Dustil a withering stare.

He thought about waving his hand slowly and telling the man in a hypnotic voice that he didn't need to pick a fight with Dustil, that he needed to leave the cantina.

'A Jedi's head' suddenly rang out loudly in his mind, and he froze.

_Don't look at him, don't look away, just look annoyed like anyone else would. Like any normal person would, _He recited in his head.

"Hey buddy," Mekel was suddenly leaning heavily on his shoulder, laughing loudly. "Sh-shouldn't we get back home? My dad'll take away my speeder if he finds out." He slurred.

"Remind me never to take you out again," Dustil said, slapping him on the back and trying to return a convincing laugh.

The human Pazaak player eyed Mekel for a moment, then finally stormed off, never giving the pair a second glance.

"Thanks," Dustil murmured under his breath, still dragging Mekel out the cantina and down the corridor.

"No problem," Mekel replied, slurring incomprehensibly until they were a safe distance away.

* * *

_I don't get sick. _

Katrina walked out of the fresher, wincing more from the aching in her neck than the pain in her stomach.

She was more irritated at the reason she couldn't accompany Dustil than the fact that she couldn't. And the reason was that she had been retching in the fresher most of the day.

_You don't get sick. Right. Keep telling yourself that._

She kicked some clothing out of her way, crawling into bed and curling up under the covers.

She still thought of it as 'their bed', even though Carth was once again far away on Telos.

It had been around four years since the last time he had been far away on Telos, enough time that the expanse of free space in the bed made her feel colder.

But although the murders were systematic, they were also ruthless. They would kill anyone who happened to be in the way of a Jedi they hunted. And she wasn't about to put him in needless danger.

Besides, he hadn't slept on the _Chaser _since before they weren't allowed to call it by its full name anymore.

It was becoming dangerous to even mention the word 'Jedi' anymore, let alone fly a ship that was called the _Jedi Chaser_. But it had been out of commission for long enough that repairing it and disguising it wasn't a risk, and she and Dustil had taken it when they had fled Telos a year or so ago.

Katrina closed her eyes, moaning softly and rubbing her aching sides.

Whatever illness this was, it needed to run its course and leave quickly. She couldn't afford to be inactive now, for any reason. Dustil had nearly run into trouble in that cantina. Communicating through the Force with him might have caused more trouble that would come back to haunt them later.

Tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Maybe it would come back to haunt her now.

She shot her hand out, her lightsaber flying from across the room into it and igniting as she rolled over to slam it against whatever weapon she had sensed was coming towards her.

Dustil leaned over her, smirking as his red blade pressed down against her green.

"You're lucky it's me and not a Sith. You would have died in your bed. That's no way for a Jedi to go."

Katrina sighed, extinguishing her weapon and tossing it towards Dustil, who caught it easily and set it on a nearby counter.

Still testing her, still trying to find a weakness at every corner.

Four years had changed her Padawan into a Knight, but they did not change the fact that despite she was his Master, she would never be his mother.

"You look a little green," he murmured, watching her as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.

"I'm fine," she replied loftily. Dustil rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you're about as fine as I'm an Ithorian-"

"So what did you find out?" she interrupted sharply.

"There's no single Sith leading the whole thing like you thought. Sion's only one of many, though a particularly powerful one of many. The Sith are living pretty much like the Jedi at the moment; too busy killing us and each other to organize into something as large as you and Malak had." Her former Padawan paused.

"Not much more than you heard and commented on," Dustil added. "I thought you said that was too dangerous to do anymore."

If you wanted someone to get suspicious, you mentioned Jedi. If you wanted them to know without a doubt, you used the Force.

_But I can't exactly leave the Force. _And the Force didn't come and go as it pleased, even though its users weren't free to do so anymore.

"I'm glad to hear he decided to steer clear of the Sith after all," she replied, ignoring his comment. She remembered Mekel. She had stood under the test of Sith lightning with him too.

"Mekel's smart," Dustil murmured, turning his lightsaber over and over in his hands. "Always was. He was maybe the only real competition I had at the Academy. But we weren't bloodthirsty about it. Maybe we both knew something was a little off about the whole thing."

She was also glad that Dustil could say 'Academy' and the names of his former fellow students without the rushes of anger, the flaring of the nostrils that she used to see whenever anyone even mentioned the word 'Sith' and happened to glance in his direction.

_Four years and the quickest Trials the Jedi Order has ever seen can do that to a person._

"He did have a point though," her former Padawan murmured.

"About what?"

"How we're out looking for the Sith rather than hiding under a rock until its all over."

"It's never going to be over, Dustil," Katrina replied, moving to the edge of the bed, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach and trying to prepare herself to stand.

"Are we just trying to save ourselves then?" Dustil said, glancing up at her.

"That, and anyone else we happen to find along the way."

She pushed herself up, stretching and walking towards the cockpit. Dustil followed.

"He mentioned Corellia, but that's biting off a little more than we can chew to try and get rid of all the Sith running around on that planet."

Katrina felt an odd little smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. "It would be like trying to infiltrate a Sith Academy on Korriban and defeat the master."

She glanced around at the cockpit, noting the scorch marks around the newly installed controls and consoles, the singes lining the glass that looked as though it had been burned into the metal around it.

The cockpit was new, but the scars were old and they reminded her of why they couldn't just go hide.

Dustil snorted, slipping into the pilot's chair and folding his arms behind his head.

"The Outer Rim probably has a pair to every planet. I bet if we contacted members of the Exchange out there they'd know-"

"We can't go back to the Outer Rim," she murmured, leaning back on the navigator's chair. "I've plastered both my names all over that section of the galaxy, and the name Onasi's pretty well known out there too."

"Well, that's a problem when you're the son of a famous Republic Admiral," Dustil said, smirking ruefully. He turned his chair towards her for a moment.

"He'd be pretty mad if he knew we were sitting here plotting what Sith to chase next rather than lying low on a farm somewhere."

But at least there was more they had in common now; they were both full Jedi Knights and they had both once been Padawans. They both loved Carth Onasi.

"We're not doing anything more than what he would do. He knows that."

Dustil nodded, sitting up and running a few idle fingers over the controls of the _Chaser_.

"He said something about Myrkr too."

"That planet's a Jedi death trap waiting to happen."

_If there's Sith there all they need to do is get a ysalamiri within a few feet of us and we're pretty much caged and sedated rancor feed._

Dustil cocked an eyebrow but still nodded.

"We've got plenty of supplies. Those plants we hauled off Dagobah went for a lot of credits."

"Better have, for the mess they made in the cargo hold."

She didn't like not knowing what to do, and she liked it less when she didn't feel very well. She burrowed irritably into her chair.

"Do you want to just sit here on Ord Mantell for a while then?" Dustil murmured sarcastically, gesturing lazily to the buildings before them. "I'm sure we'll run into a lot of hospitable people, like the guy who nearly used my head as collateral in a Pazaak game."

"He didn't touch your head. You bumped into him trying to leave."

Staying anywhere for a while wasn't a good idea. But neither was wandering aimlessly around the galaxy. Either way, someone was going to find you eventually.

A sudden shrill beeping interrupted their arguments. Dustil sat up, studying the controls. "It's a message."

Both Jedi exchanged glances. There couldn't be any messages. No one knew where they were, not even Carth.

Katrina raised the shields, legs tensed in case she had to run to the ship's only gun turret.

_There is no panic, there is knowledge._

"Where's it coming from?"

Dustil's fingers shook as they went over the panels. "Coming in from the Atravis sector. Ever been there?"

Katrina shook her head.

"Finally, something you _don't_ know," he muttered nervously, punching buttons until a hazy and static-ridden image appeared before them.

It was difficult to make out at first, but Katrina eventually recognized the stocky build and thick fur-lined face of a Bothan. He breathed heavily, and seemed to be lying down on something as he had recorded the message.

"If my sources are correct," he murmured in a deep, throaty voice, "This should reach the ship known as the _Jedi-_" The Bothan glanced around him before continuing. "_Chaser_, commandeered by a Jedi Knight known as Katrina, or, as you prefer, Revan."


	3. Chapter 3

She had learned to like the sound of her name; the soft roll of the 'r' and the 'n', the undeniable strength of the 'v' in the middle tying them together.

However, hearing it come out of the mouth of this Bothan over a recorded message that shouldn't have known where they were or what her name even was, for that matter, sent a shiver down her back.

Or maybe it was just the nausea.

"I have encoded this message with the utmost security. You will be asked at the end of it to speak your name to ensure that it has reached the correct recipient," the Bothan continued. "If your voice pattern does not match that which I have encoded the message with, a program attached to it will short circuit your hyperdrive and destroy your ship."

She glanced over at Dustil, raising an eyebrow.

"I require assistance, and I have been told that you are the only Jedi that might answer the call." The Bothan sat up from whatever he had been lying on, leaning towards the recording device.

"Who would tell him that?" Dustil whispered.

She wondered if there were Jedi hidden wherever this Bothan was. _Or Sith for that matter._

"The Jedi Order has served as an ally to my clan for years. The recent Sith attempts to wipe them out have angered many in my family, and we made a secret pledge to help the Jedi where they were powerless to defend themselves."

"We've been doing a pretty good job so far," Dustil murmured.

The Bothan sighed heavily as though he had heard Dustil's words, hanging his head.

"But, to our greatest shame, we have failed where we promised to help, and now must ask for rescue from those we thought to rescue ourselves."

"We have been gathering information that we thought might be of use to the Jedi for months now- the locations of Sith who are gaining in power and plotting widespread and organized hunts against the Jedi Order."

The Bothan's voice became more desperate, his heavy breathing returning to overrule the calm tone of a messenger.

"But our group was ambushed here on Chael, in the Atravis sector. The Sith attacked us and took my three companions captive. I alone escaped-" The Bothan paused, clutching at his chest for a moment as if in great pain.

"Our most important information was lost with my companions, and my injuries prevent me from beginning a rescue mission myself."

"Every second is vital if our information is to be of any use to the Jedi. I ask that you come to Chael and help retrieve the information. It may be of the greatest importance to help save the Jedi Order. I will be waiting for you in the city of Mikael. I trust you will be able to find me once you arrive."

Katrina watched the Bothan's face flicker as his message finished, able to sense his desperation even through the poor reception of the recording.

"Please state your name. You have ten seconds."

"Revan!" Dustil snapped, startling her out of her reverie.

"No, that voice pattern is incorrect." The Bothan seemed possessed by a computer for a moment, monotone and uncaring if their mistakes made the ship explode.

Dustil stomped his foot loudly, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Please state your name. You have five seconds," the recording repeated.

"Oh, sorry." She prayed there was no particular inflection the message had been expecting, or that it had gotten her voice wrong. "Revan."

Five seconds passed.

"Voice pattern identified. Message has reached correct recipient. Ending transmission." The Bothan's face shook and tremored for a moment, and then disappeared.

She let out a relieved sigh.

"Well. That was…unexpected," Dustil said shakily, running a hand through his hair. It stayed askew and half sticking up on one side of his head, making it look like he had a crooked mohawk.

"I guess we'd better find out where this Chael place is," Katrina murmured, beginning to rifle through the _Chaser_'s navigation system.

"Wait a minute-" Dustil began.

Katrina sighed irritatedly. "All right, I'll start powering up the ship, and _you_ look for the planet." Her hands moved over the controls, the _Chaser_ beginning to hiss and hum with the noises of her machinery coming to life.

Dustil reached over, punching a button. The _Chaser_ fell back into silence.

"Just hang on. Aren't you the slightest bit concerned with whether or not we can trust this Bothan?"

Although he was four years older, her former Padawan still had the ability to sound like that same arrogant, self-righteous teenager she had met on Korriban.

Katrina gave him a withering stare and began powering it up again.

"He's obviously injured. If he was plotting against us, it would be a lot easier to hire someone here on Ord Mantell to attack us or sabotage our ship right from the start. You heard that message; he obviously has the capabilities to blow this thing up from thousands of parsecs away."

"I think you're missing a fundamental point here," Dustil again stopped the power-up, the _Chaser_ whining for a moment before dying again. "The fact that he somehow knew who you were, what you were, and where you were."

For a moment she again thanked the gods both for Carth's insistence that they stick together and Dustil's agreement to that plan. That way, she could try and continue to train him despite his abrupt (and in her opinion, far too early) promotion.

"We don't know if we can trust him," the young Jedi Knight continued, "Especially since he has all this information about us. How do we know he's not working with the Sith, trying to lure us into a trap?"

For a moment she smirked, remembering another Onasi who had ranted about trust and raved about betrayal and traps before finally deciding that she was guilty of neither.

"We can't suspect everyone, Dustil."

"No, I know," he replied. "I'm just saying we might want to be careful. Like you're always saying, we're asking for it as it is traveling together."

And if this Sith threat didn't die down or end altogether, a day was rapidly approaching where it might be too dangerous for two Jedi to stay in hiding together.

But Katrina wasn't quite ready for that day yet.

"Look, if he's working for the Sith and he already knows where we are, we're in trouble even if we don't go to Chael-"

"And if he's not, we have a chance to do something bigger than bulls-eying womprat Sith on backwater planets," Dustil finished for her.

Her former Padawan stretched his arms over his head, finally fully powering up the ship and navigation systems. The _Chaser _almost purred gratefully.

"I hate it when you're right."

* * *

_She found herself on the plains of Dantooine, the warm sun shining down on her back and the breeze wafting gently through the random tufts of golden grass._

_But there were no kath hounds, no Mandalorians to worry about. There wasn't even the feelings that had accompanied her on Dantooine; the nervousness over her new appointment as a Jedi Padawan or the pride she had tried to control over it._

_Only the sun, and a familiar figure standing on the ridge, watching it creep down towards the horizon._

_Katrina smiled, walking forward to join the Cathar._

_"Life on Taris left little time to enjoy the beauty of living things," Juhani murmured. "Even as a Jedi I did not stop to think of what I was connected to through the Force, only how it might serve me."_

_"Most Jedi don't. Maybe that's why we didn't see this coming." _

_The Cathar returned the smile. "This has been forever coming, my friend. That is the way of the dark side of the Force." _

_Katrina watched the Jedi inhale and exhale slowly. It was somewhat surreal when she considered that Juhani was dead and couldn't breathe anything let alone the air on a planet long ravaged by Malak._

_The Cathar laughed, glancing at her._

_"Do not grieve for me, Revan. To be one with the Force gives rewards that no mortal life could ever hope to equal."_

_"Even better than a nice Corellian Brandy?" _

_Juhani smirked. "To a certain degree."_

_Katrina watched a flock of birds make a perfect arc across the Dantooine sky, a few landing very close to where she and Juhani stood._

_One turned its feathery head towards her, opening up its beak as if to begin a song. Instead it began beeping._

Katrina jolted awake in the pilot's chair, her feet sliding off the bulkhead where they had been resting. The _Chaser_'s navigation system loudly continued to beep, informing her that they were approaching Chael.

She shook the last of the Force-fueled visions off, stretching her neck and taking over the controls.

From the outside, Chael looked entirely average. A nice mix of browns, blues, and greens dotted the surface, with the occasional grey patch of mountains.

"Unidentified ship, please state your registry and crew complement," a somewhat polite if not entirely welcoming voice greeted her as the planet grew larger in the window.

"Registered as the _Chaser, _crew complement two humans and a droid."

The ship's abbreviated name was common enough that it required no disguise. Tacking a droid or two onto crew lists was easy enough; no one would believe a Jedi-in-hiding would be traveling with something as conspicuous as a droid.

"Which port do you request entry to?"

_Very organized, these Chaelans._

"Something in the vicinity of Mikael?" A small scout ship moved gracefully around her, like it was sniffing to make sure she wasn't anything dangerous.

"You are granted permission to land in Mikael. Have a pleasant stay on Chael."

_Overly friendly to random strangers too, _she thought, shaking her head as she piloted the ship into the atmosphere.

Tall trees lined the bases of dark brown and slate gray mountains that stretched into long canyons as if planted by geometric design. There were no bare spots on the surface that she could see as the ship made its descent- the entire planetary floor was covered with either wood or rock.

A large flat plain of blue and white caught her eye, and for a moment she thought it might be a lake or river of some sort. But the small outlines of buildings and structures began to form as she neared it, and the dull roar of several ships leaving and entering it showed that it was the city of Mikael.

Her fingers, sweaty and tired, slid momentarily off the stick and she gripped it with renewed concentration.

Landing on a new planet now, no matter how innocuous, always made her nervous. In space there was always a chance to get away. Once on a planet, once landed in a foreign dock, the chance of traps and the amount of things to worry about both got a lot bigger.

The dock was inside a pale blue building, thin and streamlined like the water she had mistaken it for. The _Jedi Chaser _landed smoothly inside, and Katrina rose, heading back towards the quarters in the rear of the ship.

Dustil was already awake, carefully concealing his lightsaber under his clothing.

"How many droids are with us this time?"

"Just the one," Katrina answered, reaching for the blue ocular drops. She blinked several times, waiting for them to settle.

"Is it HK or T3?" Dustil replied, leaning back against the doorframe and folding his arms.

She glanced in the mirror. The drops sat in uneven cyan blotches over her hazel eyes. She leaned her head back, putting more in.

"I never thought I'd actually miss old Coppertop."

But he couldn't have stayed with them, even if she had found a way to disguise him too. _Hunter-killer assault droids don't exactly help me to blend in._

Katrina blinked again. Her eyes were now a nondescript shade of gray.

"Well, I'll just call you 'meatbag' for the rest of the day and it'll be like he's really here." Dustil finished sarcastically.

The dock emptied out into a large central area. Trees spiraled out of random planters and water flowed from large devices mounted on the ceiling. There were far more traders than she had ever seen at a docking station. They spilled out in every direction, lining the edges of the area and selling hard to any sentient that fell in their line of sight.

"You look tired, ma'm," one called out to her, random nests of black hair on top of his head. "How about sitting down in this genuine Chaelan tree sap chair?" Katrina shook her head.

"You sir!" Another pointed suddenly towards Dustil, who seemed to restrain himself from reaching for his lightsaber. "How would you like to take this desk off my hands? Beautifully carved out of local Mikaelan wood!"

"What's with all the furniture?" her former Padawan muttered.

"It's a nice change of pace from weapons or spice."

The air felt almost fragrant. Combined with the natural beauty of the city and its surrounding wilds, it seemed hard to believe that Sith had infiltrated it; that somewhere lay an injured Bothan that needed their help.

_Then again, after Ord Mantell, the Star Forge itself would seem idyllic._

"So," Dustil said, slapping his hands together. "Any ideas on where to find this Bothan?"

Katrina continued walking, looking for medical facilities or cantinas, anywhere that might have information on an injured alien. But all she saw were furniture stores.

"We might have to play tourists again."

Mikael was laid out like a large enclosed maze, with the occasional skylight offering a view of an off-white sky. The port authority had sent her a map after confirming a dock, but it seemed to point only to the nearest hotels and souvenir stores rather than anything of actual interest.

"The air's really humid in some areas," Dustil said, tugging at the neck of his clothing.

While clean and breezy, the air seemed to take on a life of its own within the city; some walls were wet with dew, the air thick and heavy with moisture. Thankfully, whatever sickness that had bothered her yesterday was gone today, and she simply walked irritatedly through the invisible clouds.

Finally Katrina spotted a tourism office.

"Hang around out here. I'll be back." Dustil nodded.

A blue Twi'lek smiled up at her as she came through the doors.

"Welcome to the city of Mikael, sentient. We hope you have a pleasant stay. Do you require information on local sights or tourist industries?"

"You seem to have an awful lot of furniture shops."

The Twi'lek grinned and nodded as if she understood. "In case you were unaware, the Atravis sector is widely known for its artistry and craft in furniture. Chael is no exception. We produce some of the finest marble and bronze items in the galaxy."

_That explains me getting offered a new bedroom set the minute I walk off my ship._

"So most tourists come for these items?"

The Twi'lek nodded. "Most. Others come to go on excursions through our beautiful wilds. Several brochures are available if you're so inclined."

"Anything exciting happening lately?"

The Twi'lek cocked her head to the side as if confused. "Exciting, ma'm?"

"Call me more of a thrill-seeking tourist. Any local trouble?"

The Twi'lek's headtails slowly dangled from side to side as she moved her head in thought. Katrina tried to keep from tapping her fingernails on the desk in front of her impatiently.

_What I really need to ask is, have you seen any injured Bothans lately?_

_You could just try, I don't know, asking her that _without_ using the Force._ Dustil's sarcastic tone was clear even though it was in her head. _Who knows, she might even answer._

But a question that specific, one that needed an immediate answer rather than curiosity as to why she was asking, needed the Force. And using it for information that still had other options of obtaining it was frivolous.

_Still, it would be pretty nice to see the old glassy eyed response of someone repeating whatever you tell them._

The Twi'lek finally shook her head.

"No, ma'm. There's been nothing out of the ordinary, though I ask that you not let that deter you from taking advantage of our many attractions."

Katrina nodded, sighing in frustration and walking briskly back out of the office.

Normally she would be able to sense a being calling out to her, whether they were a Jedi or not. At any other time, she would be able to walk around in her robes with her lightsaber dangling from her belt, able to question any citizen or official and find out whatever she needed.

_"When you were chosen to join this mission, I doubt any of us expected this much out of you." For a moment, Katrina considered hauling the Jedi Bastila back down to the Lower City and selling her to Zax the Hutt as a slave._

_"A Jedi could have done such things, of course. But only by drawing very heavily upon the Force."_

_No. She probably wouldn't get many credits for her anyways._

_"I think you're underestimating us non-Jedi."_

She had navigated the destroyed planet of Taris, become a dueling champion, won a swoop race, infiltrated a Sith military base, and rescued a Jedi- all without even knowing her own name. Surely she could find a stationary Bothan.

_Or maybe I used the Force then without knowing it too._

All the Force was telling her at the moment was that despite the beauty of her surroundings, there was something slightly off kilter, like she was dragging a piece of trash on the end of her shoe.

Dustil quickened his pace, catching up to her.

"There's someone following us."

_That would be the piece of trash._

Neither Jedi turned around to look.

"We're all right for now," she whispered. "No one will try anything here in public."

The many shops and restaurants that lined the sections of the city towards the docks began to fade into homes and businesses. Katrina moved swiftly towards those areas, trying to make it look as though she knew where she was going.

"Still with us?" she said, forcing a smile towards Dustil as if they were having a happy, easy conversation.

"Watching you like a bantha watches fodder," he replied quietly, laughing suddenly like she had told some fantastic joke.

She nearly passed a small alleyway between two small shops, one of which had attracted a small crowd of people.

She glanced at Dustil, who nodded and paused, ready to bolt into the alley. Katrina pushed her way into the crowd, her hand poised behind her.

Quickly, furtively, she tossed the noise of scurrying footsteps in the complete opposite direction. Dustil disappeared down the alleyway.

She could sense momentary confusion from whatever creature stood a few meters away. Then, finally, out of the corner of her eye she watched a dark figure head down the alleyway as if to regroup from losing one and continue to watch the other.

Even though no one else noticed it, her ears (which had heard the sound a thousand times over) recognized the hiss of a lightsaber coming to life.

Katrina moved out of the crowd and down the alley.

It went straight for a meter or so, and then took a left into a dead end where Dustil stood, his red blade parallel to the neck of a Bothan who seemed very calm despite his position.

Still too quick to pull out his weapon. She would have to somehow remind him of that.

"If you are not who I seek, then you should kill me now, for I have failed in my mission," the Bothan murmured, glancing over at Katrina.

Experience had taught her that it was no longer safe to say what she really was, that she could only give away her identity by telling them what she wasn't.

"We aren't Sith," she answered quietly. The Bothan eyed Dustil and his weapon.

"Sith would have killed you by now," her former Padawan added without blinking aneyelid.

"I was sent to make sure you found your way to my injured friend, Leska Mayr'lo. He is most eager to meet you."


	4. Chapter 4

After following the Bothan through several buildings, in and out of vast corridors and up and down stairs, she felt like there were a thousand Kessel spice mine inmates pounding on her skull.

Whether it was from the varying humidity of the air or the sporadic pitches of enthusiastic salesmen she didn't know. The medical facility they had finally reached, at least, was quiet and had an even atmosphere.

_How you suppose Leska managed to orchestrate this whole thing without whatever Sith are on the planet getting wind of it?_

Katrina glanced over at Dustil, shrugging.

_Either a lot of credits or a lot of connections._

Their Bothan guide (who seemed as though he would remain nameless) finally stopped at a small room, inserting a keycard into the control panel.

"Leska has taken every precaution to ensure no one knows of your meeting or your identity. You may speak freely with him." The Bothan gestured towards the back of the room where the ailing Leska Mayr'lo lay on a bed.

The Bothan looked and sounded far weaker than he had on the recording. Greying fur lined the edges of a fatigued face. Golden eyes peered up at her from under heavy black skin, the area around the eyes blacker still from the dark circles of late nights.

He smiled weakly, even the fangs on either side of his mouth looking small and non-threatening.

"Forgive me if my scout alarmed you. Only after I sent my message did I realize the scope of the city. Your kind is obviously not able to move around as freely as they once did, and I thought you might need some help. I hope I wasn't too presumptuous."

_Nope, we were pretty much lost._

"Well, Leska, you were looking for Jedi Knights, and you've found them," Katrina murmured, seating herself in a chair next to the bed. "I'm reasonably sure you aren't trying to kill us, or your scout would have led us into an ambush or something."

Leska again smiled at her.

"Indeed, Revan. If I wished you ill you would know it even before you knew of me."

"So you know who I am."

The Bothan nodded. "You are among the more recognizable of Jedi. I only had to visit two or three planets to confirm your identity and appearance."

_Depending on which two or three, they might not have recognized me for being a Jedi._

"How much do you know about-" Dustil paused, probably deciding how loudly to say 'Sith'. "About the Sith threat here on Chael?"

He finally settled on an equal volume, like 'Sith' was as ordinary as 'kath hound' or 'tukata'.

"Regrettably very little, or else we would not have been taken by surprise on our way to the city," Leska replied. "I know only that there were three that attacked us somewhere within the forests to the north. They killed one of my companions, left me for dead, and took the other two away with them. Two of the Sith were human and another was some type of alien, though they disappeared too fast for me to get a better look."

"Have they attacked anyone else in the city? Maybe were they following you?"

The Bothan frowned as if she had insulted his spy skills. "They could not have merely attacked us and flown away. They carried nothing other than their weapons when they ambushed us, meaning they must have a base of some sort on the planet. As to your first question, you would have to inquire with city officials."

Already she was calculating the odds of three Sith with a permanent base in a jungle against two Jedi who avoided pulling out their tell-tale lightsabers at all costs.

They didn't look very good, but Katrina chose to ignore that.

"And this information about other Sith," Speaking freely of 'Sith' and 'Jedi' felt like they were dirty words she would have her mouth washed out with soap with later for saying. "You say it's been stolen- what kind of information is it?"

"I do not know how much you know about these purges; what we have uncovered is that there is no one rising Sith Lord controlling them. There are several vying for the position you created by killing Malak and turning back yourself, and they each have their groups of followers," Leska said, pausing to breathe heavily, sometimes breaking into a dry wheeze.

"We have discovered the locations of Sith who are plotting large scale hunts for Jedi as soon as their positions are secure," the Bothan finally continued. "If you allow that to happen, it would mean several vast and organized teams of assassins would be combing the galaxy all at once, hunting down and exterminating the Jedi. The Jedi survive now only because of the disorganized state of these teams. Should these Sith Lords succeed, the Jedi Order would no doubt become extinct within a matter of months."

For a moment the room was silent enough that she could make out the tiny patter of dust collecting on the windowsill.

"Why do you care so much about what happens to the Jedi?" Dustil said, that hard, _I-still-refuse-to-believe-this_ tone creeping into his voice.

She wished for a moment that she could write "Innocent before proven guilty" into the Jedi Code. And then make Dustil recite it a hundred times.

"Because the Jedi have always cared so much about what happens to me," Leska replied, smiling despite the impassive look on her former Padawan's face. "The Jedi have a long history of cooperating with and helping my clan in times of need, without ever asking for anything in return. We could not sit idly by and watch them be destroyed without offering help in any small way that we can."

A creature that did not want the Jedi dead. A creature that also wasn't apathetic about the possibility of Jedi extinction. A creature who, furthermore, wanted to _help_ the Jedi.

She felt like she could kiss him.

"I am relieved that you have agreed to help, Revan," Leska added. "I attempted to contact other Jedi who were not as well-known as you, hoping their anonymity would make them better candidates, but all refused or ignored my plea."

_Pride used to be the great equalizer of the Jedi. Now it's fear._

The Bothan groaned, shifting on the bed and curling up into a fetal position. Katrina stretched out a hand, but left it hovering over his torso, unsure what might be wrong with him or what might fix it.

"Are you in pain?"

Leska nodded.

"We could try to heal him," Dustil murmured next to her.

"No, young Dustil," Leska called out to her former Padawan, whose only reaction to the Bothan knowing his name was a raised eyebrow. "It has been tried already. Neither the Force nor modern medicine can help me this time."

"Tried already? Then there are other Jedi on this planet?" It was like finding water in the middle of a desert. Except all too often, the water turned out to be the corpses of Jedi. Only a mirage in the end.

The Bothan shook his head, speech apparently becoming more and more difficult for him as the seconds passed.

"No, not Jedi. But there was one who knew of the Force, and knew of you. I have asked him to meet us here so that you have no doubt of his intentions, though he is a little late."

A door behind them opened with a quiet hiss.

Katrina almost laughed.

She wondered how she could have possibly missed sensing him from a hundred meters away let alone him being in the next room. It was so obvious now- his presence dominated a room even without the Force.

"Hello, Revan."

Tall and lanky, dark brown hair and hazel eyes that reminded her of herself both younger and older. Her brother Phineas stood in the doorway, a rakish smile on his face.

"You're late."

Phineas scoffed, walking towards them. "You haven't improved in the art of social greetings, have you? Always 'You're late', or 'You're not my brother', or 'Grey's not your color'."

He looked much better than when she had seen him last; four years ago, defeated and demoted on Anelli. The color was back in his cheeks and he looked much more comfortable in the clean light blue uniform he wore.

"For once, you might want to try 'hello'," he murmured, confident, calm, and looking omniscient; as if he had willed the entire planet of Chael into existence by himself.

His voice was easy to remember. She had heard it so often in her dreams and visions since then that its iron edge and golden adaptability were like second nature.

Katrina rose from her chair, walking around him in a slow circle.

"That outfit you have on looks mighty official."

"You can't get much more official than Mayor of the city of Mikael."

"You might have been me in a past life for how good you are at taking planets over."

Phineas smirked. "I have no delusions of grandeur this time, Revan. Some people are good at building furniture or curing illnesses or wielding lightsabers. I happen to be good at telling people what to do."

The Force flowed freely through him now, healthy and alive instead of twisted and repressed.

He looked exactly like what he was- her brother.

Dustil snorted, folding his arms in front of him like that could block the fact that Phineas was back.

The Cathar's kind smile wavered on the breeze of Dantooine in her mind, and she knew what her former Padawan was thinking.

"Well I guess Leska's not working with the Sith," he murmured, cocking his head to one side. "Right?"

Dustil's voice was hard and unforgiving, and his face looked strained as though he were using every inch of power he had to try and detect a lie in her brother.

"Right," Phineas replied calmly.

Her brother turned to Leska, sitting down on the end of the bed. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Leska?"

The Bothan waved a hand dismissively. "No, your Eminence, you have done enough for me already."

"So you tried to heal him, eh?" Katrina murmured.

He smirked up at her. "Tried being the operative word. The Force is more of a sixth sense now than much of anything physical."

She wondered if it had helped him to climb the political ladder so fast.

_Yeah, it helps with that too._

After months running from anything familiar, having to hide the identity she had just reclaimed, even the sound of her brother's cocky replies in her head was comforting.

"I won't bother asking how you've been, Revan," Phineas said in a sober tone. "Your Padawan's looking gaunt enough for me to guess."

"I could probably say the same about how you went from a wandering nomad to mayor of a large city. But just for kicks I'll ask exactly how that happened."

Her brother leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him with a wistful smile.

"It was a somewhat uncomfortable ride to Coruscant. Half the other people on the ship I had passage on recognized me, either because of my position or because I had sentenced them to exile myself."

So he had gone to Coruscant too. She wondered if he had arrived right after they had departed to return to Telos, or if he had been there while she was with the Council, telling them what he had done.

If so, she hadn't sensed him. But there had been other things on her mind then.

"What did you do there?"

"Built up muscle mass, mostly," he replied with a chuckle. "I did a lot of odd jobs and spent most of my free time wandering around, gawking at buildings. Did you know an entire galaxy existed outside of Anelli? I didn't."

"I snuck in to watch the Galactic Senate a few times too," A look of faraway awe and adoration came over his face, like the Senate was before him bestowing their honors on his head. "Made the Committee look like a bunch of Sand People with good lighting."

"Why'd you leave?"

Phineas shrugged. "It got too loud. I got too bitter."

There was only one negative feeling she sensed in him, and it wasn't resentment or jealousy- it was regret.

"So I wandered around a bit more and ended up here, working in this very medical facility as a nurse."

"But you don't know anything about medicine!"

Her brother winked devilishly at her.

"I know about the Force. No one needed to know that instead of administering drugs or helping with bacta treatments I was just putting my hands on someone's forehead and sending them on their way."

"Sure you aren't still working here and this Mayor thing isn't a figment of your imagination?" Dustil muttered.

"I happened to treat one of Chael's regional governors one day, and we got to talking," her brother continued, ignoring Dustil's comment. "I guess he liked what I had to say, and I found myself back in political circles."

Phineas paused, glancing up at her.

"I hope it isn't leaning too much towards guilty dark side pleasure if I admit that it felt good to be back."

_She missed him. She realized it, trying desperately to ignore it._

Katrina reached out to smooth his slightly tangled hair, watching with a smirk as batted her hand away and tried to fix it. "Exactly how did you meet Leska?"

The Bothan pushed himself halfway up, sharing a smile with Phineas.

"Ironically enough, Revan, I was investigating him as a possible Sith threat after having uncovered his past. But his intentions have proved to be honest thus far."

"Maybe his intentions weren't so-"

"Don't even say it," she snapped at Dustil.

_If he were anyone else, you'd be questioning it too. If he were anybody other than your brother._

Katrina glanced behind her, meeting Dustil's glare evenly. "Would you excuse us for a moment, Leska?"

The Bothan nodded weakly, and Katrina retreated into the adjoining room, ignoring the concerned gaze of her brother on her back.

"Stop challenging him, Dustil. He's only trying to help."

Dustil stalked towards the corner, throwing a hand up in the air. "You've totally forgiven him, haven't you?"

She had tried to hate her brother. She had tried to kill him.

_I can't hate you. I tried... I wanted to hold you responsible for all the things you've done. For my... for my wife, for Telos... for Dustil. But I can't._

But she couldn't hold him responsible for a Cathar Master who had died because of one Padawan's arrogance and another Padawan's mistake.

"Yes, I have. And I thought you'd gotten over this-"

"He betrayed us. He betrayed us, and he was a Sith. I don't want him dead, but I don't think we can trust him either."

"There's such a thing as being careful, and there's such a thing as being paranoid-"

"And I don't think you realize where either of those distinctions are!"

Katrina watched him pace back and forth in the small supply room, growing angrier by the minute. She suddenly felt very dizzy.

"We can't keep doing this, Dustil," she snapped, putting two fingers up to rub her aching temples. "You can't keep fighting with me-"

"Sometimes you need a reminder that your word isn't law-"

"You need to stop thinking you have the judgment to know whose word is-"

"Stop treating me like a child who doesn't know what judgment means-"

"Stop acting like one!"

The echo in the small room made both Jedi realize how loud they had become, and Dustil sighed, leaning over an examining table.

"This is going to get us killed, Dustil," Katrina added, "If we're going to survive these purges, you have to start listening to me-"

"And maybe once in a while you could remember that I'm a Jedi Knight," he shot back, "And that I know what I'm doing just as well as you do."

"No, you _don't._" The words slipped out, bitter and angry, before she could modify them to be less accusing, less final.

Dustil looked up at her, his eyes narrowed.

"I completed the trials," he said stubbornly. "The Council said I was ready-"

"The Council doesn't know everything-"

"And you do?" Dustil exploded.

"I was your Master, I knew better than they did-"

"Master Juhani would have agreed with them!"

His words hit her like a punch directly in the stomach, and she bent over the doorway, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy.

It hit her in other places too, but she refused to admit that she cared that much about what he thought.

"Dustil-" She suddenly felt short of breath, and his name was all she could force out between her gasping lungs.

"Look, I'm sorry," Katrina barely heard him, as though he were at the end of the outside hallway rather than a few centimeters away. "I…I didn't mean that, Master-"

Dustil glanced over at her, and she caught his gaze.

"Master?" he broke off as she watched him and the room around her spin in a few uneven circles and finally fade to black.

* * *

_The floor looked dirty. It was the first thing she noticed, idly scraping at a black scuff mark with her shoe._

_"Padawan Dustil, please approach the Council."_

_That, and Master Vandar's voice seemed a bit listless, as though he had suddenly realized that the grinning young man in front of him was actually the thousandth Jedi he had performed the same ceremony with._

_"Hey," Carth's elbow jabbed at her side softly. "Look alive, would you?"_

_She returned his smile, though she had now noticed the way the curtains seemed a little too ragged, a little too musty._

_"We acknowledge that Padawan Dustil Onasi has successfully completed the trials," Vandar continued. "He has demonstrated proficiency in the art of wielding a lightsaber-"_

_"He beat me _once,_" she whispered irritatedly._

_"But he still beat you, beautiful." Carth couldn't seem to keep from smiling despite her tone, his hands fidgeting at his sides as though they wanted to break out into applause for his son._

_She decided she'd keep her thoughts to herself._

_"He has shown mastery of the three key aspects of the Force: the ability to alter-"_

Stealing tools out of his father's hands isn't altering anything; it's just funny.

_"The ability to control-"_

Like the great control he exercised when we ran into that zoologist that was searching for Cathar to be his main exhibit.

_"And the ability to sense."_

_Well. That one at least she couldn't argue with. Dustil sensed every flare of her temper, every ignition of her blade, every kiss she gave to Carth._

_She found herself searching for Jolee. He'd surely have some kind of long-winded explanation for a promotion she didn't think her Padawan had earned._

_But the Council had said he was away. No talk of a mission or any Jedi Council business, simply away._

_As she looked around the room, she noticed several of the members of the Council were missing, represented only by empty chairs._

_Where was Bastila when she needed her iron will and endless lectures? The Jedi was also absent, perhaps the only advocate she could think of._

_"He has demonstrated a complete understanding of the Jedi Code and the tenets of our Order, and the ability to use both to make sound judgments."_

_Parts of her wanted to push through the small watching crowd and point fingers at Dustil, expose his ignorance for the entire Council to see._

_How ironic. She hadn't even wanted him trained at all, and now she was here at his graduation, wishing she could train him longer._

_"He has proven himself to be capable of independent action, having successfully completed a mission given to him by the Jedi Council to investigate a murder on Tatooine."_

Some mission. He found a farmer's daughter trampled to death by desert wraids.

_There were about a dozen harder things she had made him do alone in the past four years. Hell, if they wanted him to investigate a simple accidental death, they could have let him stay on Telos and find out how that environmental worker had been burned on the planet's surface._

_A warm tingling spread through her shoulder._

Do you agree with this?

_The Cathar's hand came off of her shoulder to rest calmly at her side._

It is not for me to agree or disagree. It is the Council's decision who is ready for knighthood.

_She folded her arms in front of her, watching Dustil's grin grow wider as Vandar rattled off his list of accomplishments until there were two or three dimples in each of his cheeks._

Besides, _Juhani murmured shyly, _I am no longer his Master.

You were always his Master. I was just a poor substitute. _The Cathar smiled, and she could sense, even through whatever plane of existence the dead lived on, that despite her misgivings Juhani was proud of Dustil._

_Her Padawan glanced over towards her, and she smiled gently at him. He nodded, turning back towards Vandar._

_"Last, but certainly not least," Vandar said, a small chuckle escaping his lips that made him sound like the old Vandar; not this tired old creature who looked as though his mind were anywhere but on the Padawan in front of him. "He has, at great length, mastered the art of building his own lightsaber."_

_The crowd laughed as Dustil shuffled his feet, smirking._

_He had indeed finally learned to align a crystal correctly. But he hadn't changed the color- it still shone a bright red. _

To remind him of a few things.

_"Padawan Dustil Onasi has proven himself, and it is the Council's honor to bestow upon you the title of Jedi Knight."_

_Carth, who had held himself in quiet dignity for the entire ceremony, suddenly let out a loud whoop, breaking into applause with the rest of the crowd._

_Dustil bowed to the Council, shaking hands with fellow students, Masters, and finally walking over to his father's embrace._

_"Congratulations, son," Carth murmured, gripping his shoulder. "I hope this doesn't mean I have to call you Master Jedi."_

_"Oh, it definitely does," Dustil replied, smirking. He turned to her, breathless and elated. _

_To say congratulations would be a lie, and so she said nothing, knowing he could sense that she didn't approve. Hopefully he would just dismiss it as one of her 'Dark Lord' moods, like he did most other times she vehemently disagreed with him._

_"But I don't have to call you Master Jedi anymore," he said, still grinning._

_Good. He had brushed it off. She smiled, patting Dustil on the back as they turned to leave._

_"Nope, you can just call me Revan like everybody else."_

_A few turned to glance at the name, to give it a face. Instead of staring as they usually did, however, the small crowd immediately looked away, as though she was naked and they didn't want to embarrass her._

_She finally noticed what had been hidden better than the scuffs on the floor, the dying curtains, or the missing Jedi. It seemed ludicrous that she hadn't noticed it, and she stared for a moment to make sure what she was seeing was correct._

_Not one of the Council was wearing their robes. And their lightsabers, which usually hung proudly from their belts, had disappeared._

_It was as if Dustil had been awarded knighthood from a band of refugees in a decaying room._


	5. Chapter 5

"Revan?" Sound came back first; Dustil's low whisper.

"I think she's coming around." Her brother's voice was loud and overpowering. His mouth must have been right next to her ear.

"Well then get out of the way, Phineas." This other voice was unrecognizable- though it sounded completely comfortable saying her brother's name. "Make room for the real doctors."

For a moment she forgot the dull throb throughout her body and wanted to ask them what the hell they found so funny.

The overwhelming white glow of an examining room made her eyes burn as Katrina cautiously opened them, pushing herself up on one elbow and groaning.

"Revan," If Dustil was still angry, he had apparently forgotten it for relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to-" She patted his forearm and he fell silent.

The slight trembling in his arms slowed down and finally disappeared all together. She saw Juhani gently disappearing into the darkness and she knew what he had been afraid of.

She was no longer in Leska Mayr'lo's room. Instead she lay on an examining table, Dustil and Phineas on either side of her.

Another hand, one that didn't belong either to her brother or her former Padawan reached towards her.

Katrina pulled out her lightsaber, igniting it protectively in front of her.

The figure that jumped back, holding up its hands and dropping medical tools, was a man clad in one of the medical staff's white uniforms.

A pair of very clear blue eyes didn't look as startled as the rest of him, and they peered at her like she was a museum exhibit.

"Is she always this polite?" he murmured.

"Yes." Dustil and Phineas replied simultaneously.

"I know three people in this room and that's the two of them and myself," Katrina snapped. "Now who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Eli Dathan," he replied sharply. "And I _was_ trying to treat you before you pulled your little light-beam thing on me."

Not only did 'hypocrite' suddenly spring up in her mind as a definition for how she had just acted, but she had pulled out her _lightsaber_.

_You might as well have just said "If you're somehow involved secretly with the Sith, I just wanted to let you know that I'm a Jedi."_

_Force, I'm an idiot. _

Katrina replaced her weapon back under her coat, sitting up and sighing.

"You can trust him, Revan," Phineas murmured. "Dathan and I worked together for a long time. He knows everything about me."

"Before you went off and became 'Your Eminence', you mean," Dathan added with a smirk, picking his tools up off the ground and coming closer to her.

He was apparently of the brand that still believed in sentient-to-sentient medicine; whether this had anything to do with his comparatively younger age or not she didn't know. He might have looked older if he wasn't clean shaven and his pitch-black hair wasn't so short and trim. As it was, he looked somewhere between her and her brother.

Dathan took her pulse, prodding her in the neck and temples before shining a red beam in her eyes.

"Look," she snapped, wincing. "Before I go completely delirious and start thinking you're all assault droids, would you mind telling me exactly what's wrong with me?"

Dathan rubbed his neck, folding his arms in front of him.

"Where have you been recently?"

_Some tropical disease?_

"A lot of places. Coruscant, Dagobah, Ord Mantell-"

"Chasing these Sith assassins?"

Katrina gave him a look that could melt the ice caps on Hoth. "Yes."

Dathan nodded. She suddenly got the feeling that he already knew what was wrong and this was all just a game at her expense.

_Poison? But the Sith we've faced so far; We killed them too fast for them to ever get close to the ship or to me…_

"Nausea?"

"Yes."

"Mmm. Dizziness? Occasional disorientation?"

Disorientation might explain why she had just pulled a weapon on him, but little else. _Motion sickness? What kind of crackpot doctor is he?_

"Yes."

"Uh huh. Aching around the abdominal section?"

If Katrina heard his little 'mm hmm's or 'uh huh's again, she thought she might deck him.

"Yes," she hissed.

Dathan smiled knowingly.

"Stress."

"Stress?" she repeated, disgusted.

"That, and you're pregnant."

_His apartment was not any less messy. She picked his jacket up off the floor, laying it on a nearby chair._

_The familiar action; the intimate, loving action, almost overwhelmed her for a moment. _No. This isn't good. There is no emotion, there is no excruciating happiness that you're touching things he's worn.

_But not having seen him in nearly a year, having been on the run with another Onasi, finally finding an opportunity in which they could return to Telos, however briefly-_

"About two months along," Dathan added, before letting the complete silence of the room take over.

No. If you are emotional, _she had learned all too quickly, _they will find you.

_But despite the fact that its very presence had given her a death mark, the Force would not leave her. _

_She felt him coming towards her long before the door hissed open and she heard the clatter of whatever datapads he had been carrying fall to the floor, the smooth click of his blaster coming out of its holster and aiming towards her._

_"Freeze! Hands up where I can see them." _

_She obediently lifted her hands towards the ceiling, laughing softly._

_"Are you always this suspicious?" Though it didn't sound much different than datapads, she heard his blaster fall and slide across the metal flooring to the corner, silent and still._

_She reached up to pull her hood down, turning around to smirk at Carth, who stared at her like she was a ghost._

"_You would have really been kicking yourself if you had shot me, huh?"_

_Carth finally exhaled._

_"It's not something to joke about. I almost did."_

_She hoped for a moment no one had been alerted by the charges of his blaster, or that she had been captured on any security cameras. Security on the Citadel- to Admiral Carth Onasi's quarters, no less- was incredibly tight, which wasn't incredibly helpful when she needed above all things to stay invisible, to not exist._

_"Where's Dustil?" he finally said, stepping towards her._

_"Getting supplies. We were in the area and low on rations."_

_Carth smiled, standing in front of her and rubbing his neck._

_"He, uh, doesn't know you're here, does he?" _

_She shook her head. _

_"No. And later on I'll probably suggest to him to come see you despite the danger. Just warning you so you don't try and shoot him too."_

_He laughed, reaching out to caress her cheek._

_"I only shoot the strange, dangerous women who break into my quarters, gorgeous."_

_Missing him was so much easier to control when he wasn't in front of her, when hearing the words 'beautiful' or 'gorgeous' were only applied to landscapes and pieces of artwork._

Katrina's hand flew first to her stomach, then to her forehead.

_It's probably wrong that my first reaction is two words long. Damn and It._

"Well…I was expecting Crazed Bantha Fever or a nice case of Dagobian Swamp Cough, but I guess this is better," Phineas finally said.

Dustil turned away from her, putting his hands on the small of his back and sighing heavily.

_Well. At least I don't have to worry about how to tell Dustil._

Her former Padawan stood still for a moment, folding and unfolding his arms. Then he made a quick retreat into a nearby glass-walled office.

Katrina pushed herself to the edge of the table, getting down and standing up.

"Where is your Republic nobody anyways?" her brother said in a low voice.

_Are you pretending to be the protective older brother now?_

Phineas frowned at her.

_I _am _the protective older brother, Revan._

"The Republic _Admiral_ is overseeing the rebuilding of a destroyed planet," she shot back.

_And that one, your Padawan-_

"I wouldn't be the one to suggest he's still a Padawan if I were you," Katrina added.

_He's related to him, isn't he?_

Dathan looked from her to her brother, obviously confused. Katrina stormed past them, following Dustil.

_There is no suddenly feeling like you're only the Admiral's whore to his son again, there are no misplaced priorities._

The young Jedi Knight stood calmly with his hands behind his back, staring intently at a control panel on the wall as though it were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

"Look…" she started, her hand back to her forehead which was suddenly aching again. This time she didn't think it was from the stress.

"We've got more important things to deal with right now. We…we have a long time-"

"Probably seven or eight months."

She knew he didn't mean for it to sound like there was only seven or eight months until he dropped the guillotine on her head, seven or eight months in which she had to reconcile their entire relationship or else she would lose her chance, but it sounded like that anyways.

"We have a while. We'll just…deal with this later."

Dustil turned, sighing ruefully.

"Yeah. All right." He straightened up, and Katrina felt like she could almost see a thousand tiny diggers burying the information he had just received in the deepest part of his brain.

_Except that it's pretty volatile material, and it'll probably explode when I least suspect it._

"I think we should check out where the Bothans were ambushed."

Dustil nodded. "It'll probably give us an idea of where their base might be."

"You get back to the _Chaser_ and round up some provisions. I'll see about these excursions they rave so much about or if we can get permission to wander around by ourselves." Her former Padawan nodded again, hurrying past her and out the door like he couldn't wait to get away.

Katrina turned, wandering back out to where her brother and Dathan still stood.

"Phineas, where can I reach you if I need to ask about something?"

His familiar politician's stance immediately came back.

"I'm having Leska moved to my private home, under the pretense that he's an ambassador we're trying to treat especially well. Here." He pulled a comlink out from within his cloak, pressing a few buttons. "That's a private line if you have to contact me or him."

_Otherwise, just call and I'll answer_.

She nodded. "I'll need you to send me the exact location that Leska was found at."

"Dathan was with the team that found him, and he's also Leska's doctor," Phineas said, gesturing to the doctor. "He can give you that."

"I'm not giving anyone anything until we clear up one small point," Dathan broke in. "What's this I hear about you venturing out into the wilds to find an ambush?"

"You wouldn't understand, Doctor, so I advise you to just give me the location and mind your own business."

It was the tone that used to give her chills whenever it crept into her speech, but now she used it freely.

"Ma'm, might I remind you that Leska was brutally attacked and one of his friends murdered? Might I also remind you that you're now pregnant?"

_And I haven't been the past two months when I've been running around in the wilds of other planets, fighting off Sith assassins?_

"Look, I might not know much about-" He too glanced around, like there might be spies in his own medical facility. "About the Jedi or these Sith that supposedly attacked Leska and his friends, but I know about medicine and about life and death. And I know that you're asking for the end of one of them by going out alone into the wilds, _looking_ for dangerous killers!"

"Dathan," Phineas murmured in a tone similar to hers, one that she had heard so often using pronouns like 'we' and 'us'. "Revan is my sister, and I trust her to take care of herself."

"The point, Phin, is that your sister no longer only has herself to take care of." Dathan snapped.

_And I haven't been taking care of Dustil? Of the remnants of the Order? Of any sentient that begs me for help?_

"Did you hear what my brother called me, Doctor?"

This tone was one she hadn't heard in a long time.

"_Do you know who I am?"_

"Revan," Dathan replied, returning her steely gaze.

"_They say you're Revan, but you've reformed and become a Jedi again."_

"Did you think that was just a coincidence, or an unfortunate nickname?"

Dathan's eyes went over her like everyone else's, wondering how a woman of average height with nondescript brown hair and hazel eyes had become a Sith Lord of frightening proportions.

She still wondered herself, every time she looked into the bloodshot eye of a Sith lightsaber striking mercilessly over her head:

_How was I ever one of you? How was I ever your leader?_

"Trust me when I say that I know what I'm doing."

Dathan stood, silent and defeated like most people who tried to fight her. He moved to a nearby desk, inserting a datapad into the receptacle on the computer. It hummed for a moment, and then he removed it, handing it to her.

"The records of where I and my rescue team found Leska. There are two or three excursions that will get you close to it, but nothing goes directly there." Katrina nodded in thanks, turning on her heel and exiting the room, back down the hallways of the medical facility towards the exit.

_You weren't lying, were you? _Her brother's voice echoed in her head as she walked.

_I've been a Jedi and a Sith, Phineas. I've lived as both and died as one._

She could hear his concerned sigh even through the Force.

_Let's hope you don't die as both too._


	6. Chapter 6

'Wilds' wasn't a noun usually used to describe a forested planet with mountain ranges.

But after clawing her way through the thousandth errant branch to catch in her hair or scratch at her cheeks, Katrina was about ready to declare this place a jungle.

"If you will look to your right, sentients, you may observe the Mikaelean Titan, the largest tree ever to grow on our soil," the tour guide's high-pitched voice rang out.

"Shouldn't excursions like this be banned?" Dustil muttered, wincing.

"Because of the Sith threat? Probably. Maybe they just haven't gotten to it, or they're figuring we'll take care of it."

"I meant because of her voice," he added, smirking at her.

_His wit's back. He seems to have successfully repressed the last few days._

That was more than she could say for herself. She had _never_ thought about children.

The forests surrounding the city of Mikael were dense but well lit, due to the fact that most trees were very tall but not very wide.

Hell, she had never even _dealt _with children. Even the memories that had come back to her on Anelli of herself as a child were somewhat austere.

The forest floor, however, was a maze of vines, bushes, and bugs, things the tour guide seemed to know how to avoid. Katrina wondered when she was going to let the rest of the group in on the secret, batting a small two-headed fly away.

Carth had obviously thought of children at some point.

_I could ask Dustil what he was like as a kid_. She glanced over at her former Padawan.

_Nope. Probably a bad idea. _

_Besides, _she reasoned,_ Carth wasn't there for most of Dustil's life, and only half there for him when he was a child._

It took a moment to realize that, for the first time, the thought had crossed her mind as the truth. Not the invention of a bitter teenager that had fallen to the dark side; not what the Lovesick Padawan Katrina had wanted it to be.

Carth hadn't been there. Most of the time because he had thought Dustil was dead. The other half of the time because of duty, honor, and other noble ideals she was sure hadn't meant a hill of beans to Dustil or his long dead mother.

"We're almost there," Dustil said, glancing down at the map Dathan had given them.

"Just around this corner and off to the left, looks like," Katrina murmured, watching the tour guide cautiously.

The guide hadn't liked it when Katrina had suggested they go off-trail. She cast a severe look towards the pair of Jedi, turning back to the family of Twi'leks who were also in the group.

Mission was a kid (no matter what the Twi'lek herself would say); Carth had gotten along with Mission all right, hadn't he?

"_Trust me, Mission. There are a lot of worlds better than Taris," Carth pushed a dangling piece of scaffolding out of their way, stepping carefully over the large puddles throughout the Undercity sewers. "Taris is no place for a kid to live on her own - even a kid who's got a Wookiee to look out for her."_

_Mission stopped, putting a hand on her hip and glaring at him._

_"Hey, I ain't no kid! And I look out for Zaalbar as much as he looks out for me. Geez, I come to ask you a question and you give me a lecture!"_

_Carth turned around, scoffing. _

At this rate, the Gamorreans will be buying the Wookiee back from someone by the time we get to him, _Katrina thought, sighing._

_"Don't you snap at me, missy! You want a lecture? How's this: Only bratty little children fly off the handle because of a simple comment."_

_"I don't have to listen to you, Carth! You ain't my father- though you're sure old enough to be! So keep your lectures inside your withered old head, 'cause I don't need 'em."_

_Watching the outrage come into the pilot's face, Katrina wasn't quite sure if he was more insulted that the Twi'lek had acted so unreasonably or that she had called him 'old' twice in the same sentence._

_"And I sure as hell don't need this!"_

Maybe he hadn't dealt with Mission so well.

"Ready?" Dustil nodded.

"Go." The two bolted into the forest in the direction the map indicated, ducking behind a tree to wait until the rest of the group was out of sight.

But she wasn't totally unable to deal with children. She had kept those kids from tormenting that Ithorian in the Upper City, hadn't she?

_"Hey you kids- leave that Ithorian alone."_

_The boy laughed, kicking the Ithorian in the leg as if to spite her._

_"You're a freak too! Why don't you get out of here, you freaks?"_

_"Yeah," the other one added, smashing his small fist into the Ithorian's back. "Why would a human want to help you, freak?"_

_"Get out of here you punks, or you'll be the ones in pain," Katrina hissed._

Katrina sighed in frustration.

_I will not think about this, I refuse to think about this._

She stood, pulling out her lightsaber and igniting it, listening to its hum for a moment before beginning to hack through the vines and bushes in her way.

_The wilds suddenly seem much improved._

The datapad Dustil was carrying began to beep as they reached a small clearing in the brush.

Not cleared by any kind of natural means, but trampled and matted down like a ship's landing post had been pressing down for a few hours.

"Here it is," Dustil breathed, stepping around in a slow circle, his blade held cautiously in front of him with one hand while the other inspected their surroundings.

Scorched branches and the crumpled remains of leaves marked the stages of a violent lightsaber assault. Senses that she hadn't used in months suddenly came alive again, showing her fatal blows, cries of agony, a final death rattle.

Dark red flaky blotches dotted the forest floor, too random for a lightsaber. Katrina didn't reach down to examine them. The echoes of whatever being they had come from were still hanging upon the air.

She pulled out the comlink.

"We've reached the site, Phineas."

"Good," her brother's voice crackled through the tiny speaker. "Leska's here with me if you need to ask anything."

Two or three smaller trails faded off into the forests. One large and wide one curved back through the wilds.

"Leska, how did you end up out here?" There was a long pause.

_He's having trouble speaking. _Her brother sounded solemn, like the Bothan had already died.

"They landed in the wilds so they wouldn't have to register their ship or have anyone know they were here. They were intending on gathering information about the rumored Sith on this planet as well," Phineas said, translating for the weakened Bothan.

_That wide path you're seeing should lead straight to their ship, _he added._ Supposedly it's still out there._

Dustil disappeared down the path.

"Have these Sith attacked anyone else? Have they been here long or have there been any long-standing rumors about them?"

"There hasn't been so much as a missing tour guide until now. I guess they have no one to hunt, so they keep to themselves."

_You didn't sense them?_

Her brother's old walls came up momentarily, and then reluctantly crumbled. She felt like she wanted to wash her hands over and over again for ever listening to them, for ever betraying her sister, for being too weak to help both the sister and herself.

Even though she was the sister and it was his regret, not hers.

_I don't exactly try to look for them anymore. _

She could tell that, if anything, he avoided the Sith at all costs.

Dustil came jogging breathlessly back down the trail.

"About a kilometer or so away. Pretty banged up Class 580 freighter."

She gave him a blank look.

"Takes up to six passengers, about thirty-seven meters in length. It can carry two-hundred metric tons of cargo."

Katrina rolled her eyes. "Fascinating."

He was just like his father. Spouting ship specifications and admiring hyperdrive capabilities when they had more important things to do.

"It's all empty space now though," he added, wiping sweat off his brow. "Somebody ransacked it. A couple lightsabers used the loading platform and gangplank for target practice."

The smaller trails were in every direction, some dead ending against trees, and others snaking off through the forest.

The only one she recognized was another thick one that went straight back in the direction of the city; the path Dathan and his rescue team had taken.

"They surrounded them," Dustil murmured, turning around in a slow circle.

It did appear that way; three paths that extended into the forest formed a triangle around the trampled clearing.

"We were taught about this at the Academy," he suddenly said, turning to glance at her.

"Taught about what?"

"Looking for tracks. Discerning ones of escape from ones of intent. I guess they intended on us using the skills at some point in the future."

As grim as it sounded, she couldn't help a moment's annoyance at the Jedi. The Sith obviously planned ahead. If the Jedi Order had thought to do the same, they might not be the dying breed.

"Can you tell which one of these the Sith might have used to head back to wherever their base is?"

Dustil leaned over, holding his lit blade above each trail to give himself light.

"The air's getting thicker," he said heavily.

The atmosphere shifted even more wildly out here than it had it parts of the city. She held up the comlink, ready to ask Phineas about it.

Her former Padawan's head shot up.

She felt like the vines around her had turned into invisible snakes, and were slowly curling around her ankles.

Katrina slowly put the comlink away, putting both hands to her weapon and holding it out in front of her.

_Stay calm. Don't panic._

Easy to say; not so easy to do when you were about to enter into another battle against assassins that only seemed to get smarter and tougher the more of them you killed.

_They've been following the excursion the whole time. _She exchanged a glance with Dustil.

Using the Force could get them into trouble. But not using it kept them from knowing when it was coming their way.

_There's no time to kick ourselves about it now, Dustil._

They attacked so fast she barely thought of anything else other than swinging her lightsaber.

Two came at Dustil, looking like they meant to tear both his arms off. The young Jedi Knight flipped over them, landing unsteadily behind her and falling up against her back.

Another came towards her, and she blocked his assault, reaching out to try and send him flying backwards. She found she was so out of practice that she succeeded only in what amounted to a weak shove.

Katrina whirled around, smashing her lightsaber up against her attacker's, looking around and frantically trying to make a head count.

Dustil fending off a bald human. Another human, clad in the familiar grey Sith uniform, hurtling towards her. The dark skinned Zabrak a few inches from her face, growling and trying to break their saber clash.

She broke free from the Zabrak, flipping her blade upside down and slicing him across the stomach. He fell to the ground with an indignant shriek before staying silent and still.

Dustil was slowly being backed against a tree by two humans. Katrina turned, sprinting towards them.

A blur of green and red came at her, and she swung wildly. The blur leapt over her, pulling her lightsaber out of her hands.

She froze for a split second. _There is no available weapon. There is Dustil needing help_.

Her former Padawan acted before she could do anything. Dustil dropped to the ground as both humans swung their blades towards his neck, diving between them and tumbling to the forest floor.

Katrina slammed her foot into the gut of the blur, now moving with a slower purpose towards her and appearing to be a green Twi'lek. The Sith fell back with a sick grunt, losing its grip on her lightsaber, which Katrina promptly called back to her hands.

The human in the Sith uniform tripped over an errant tree branch, his intended blow clumsily sideswiping Katrina. She pushed her blade through his stomach, watching as he fell like the dead weight he now was to the forest floor.

The two humans had caught Dustil lying flat on his back on the ground. They stepped ruthlessly on his arm. Dustil cried out, his weapon falling from his trembling hand and rolling away from him.

The Twi'lek swiped angrily at her. He had recovered quickly.

_There is Dustil needing help…_

A large tree limb shuddered over the heads of the two cackling humans from all the activity. If she could leap into that tree and chop that limb, it would knock both Sith off Dustil and get her away from the Twi'lek's attacks.

The muscles in her legs tensed, ready to jump despite minor doubts that she could leap ten or twenty meters off the ground.

_That probably isn't good for the baby._

Her mind that identified itself as Revan wondered how it could have thought those words, in that combination, with that kind of tone in its voice.

The sickening crunch of bone woke her up.

Katrina slammed her lightsaber down on the shoulder of the attacking Twi'lek. The alien fell back, grasping the wide wound and the dangling as though if he held it there, it might reattach itself.

She flung her weapon towards the two humans standing over Dustil. It struck one of them on the neck, on apparently an important vein. The human crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

The remaining Sith- the bald human and the injured Twi'lek- fled into the forest.

She waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps crunching through the leaves and bushes, until she could no longer smell the stench of their hatred around her.

Dustil moaned loudly. She rushed over to him.

"My arm…" he said, in a voice so airy and ambivalent that she knew he was going into shock.

There was a joint in his upper arm where there hadn't been one before. The skin around it was an ugly shade of bright purple.

Katrina whipped through her pack, tearing open a medpac and putting a quick-seal splint on the arm.

The young Jedi Knight continued to moan weakly, halfway into a Jedi trance.

"Phineas?" she panted into the comlink. "Phineas?"

_No need to shout. _She wondered again how she was so certain he was smirking even though she couldn't see him.

"I need a medical rescue sent out. Dustil's hurt and I don't think I can drag him all the way back without hurting him more."

"Hurt? What happened?"

_The Sith happened._ Katrina looked around warily, wondering if they were regrouping, planning to come back and finish them off.

"A team will be out there within ten minutes," her brother finally answered.

She put the comlink back in her pack, falling back from her position over Dustil to sit on the forest floor, her hand on one knee.

One of the harder battles they'd had since going into hiding. Outnumbered and equally-matched.

_But we're still alive,_ she reminded herself, wiping sprayed dirt off Dustil's cheekbone.

His lightsaber had rolled off to one side. Katrina reached over, grasping it from where it lay near the dead Zabrak Sith.

The Zabrak and the human in the Sith uniform were both sprawled, burned and still, very near to each other. One of the humans that had broken Dustil's arm, the one she had struck with her lightsaber, was curled up in a fetal position back near the trail the other two had fled down- his eyes and mouth wide open like she was still attacking him.

_Wait a minute._

The numbers weren't adding up. Leska had mentioned three Sith; two humans and an alien.

Three Sith lay dead before her. Two humans and a Zabrak.

What didn't add up was the other two, the Twi'lek and the bald human, who had fled into the woods. That made five.

_Five doesn't equal three. Five equals a lot bigger problem than we thought._


	7. Chapter 7

"Master Jedi?"

Katrina turned from the window. The Bothan who had served as their guide walked over to her, bowing his head formally.

"I thank you for all the help you tried to give Leska. On behalf of the entire Pelo clan, I wish you and the Order luck against the Sith."

She tried to keep her gaze off the floating coffin outside the door, waiting to be taken to the Bothan's ship and flown back to Bothawui. "Hopefully we'll be thanking you for your efforts later."

The Bothan smiled, bowing again and exiting the room.

_Even though the death count so far is two Bothans and probably soon to mount to four if we don't figure out what the hell's going on._

Phineas moved to join her, folding his arms in front of him.

It seemed like he had a stance for every office he held; the calm folded hands behind his back on Anelli, the arms against his vital organs for Chael.

"I wish we could have helped him," she murmured.

"We can't bring anyone back from the dead, Revan. There's nothing more that can be done for him."

She watched the nameless Bothan aide's party walk out of the city center; Mikael's local government and security station, and Phineas's home.

"Dathan should be out soon to let us know about your Padawan," he said.

Katrina frowned, feeling his eyes on her stomach.

"So…this Republic Admiral who's rebuilding a destroyed planet must be a little old if he has a son who's around-"

"Don't you ever have any work to do, your Eminence?" she muttered.

Her brother laughed.

"Mayor of a city and Committee Member of a planet are two entirely different things. There's a lot more delegation here than there was on Anelli. I have much more free time. Adding in the fact that I never did have much of a social life-"

"There was a good number of Sith that attacked us," she said sharply, ignoring him. "Leska was right. They have to have a permanent base somewhere on this planet, and for some reason other than ambushing people that happen to break away from tour groups."

Her brother seated himself in a nearby chair, leaning forward.

"First I ought to remind you that Chael isn't a major player in the Republic, nor is it forgotten like Anelli was. We don't do much of anything that matters except to the rich who can afford a nice dining set, or collectors who like to brag about Mikaelean marble or Betuelan bronze."

"Like you might have guessed, the economy is mostly centered around the production and crafting of marble and bronze furniture. We mine both these substances at points all throughout the planet." His hands made wide, sweeping gestures like she could somehow see the scope of the Chaelan economy through a few waggling fingers.

"Having said that," Phineas continued. "I checked a couple of records while you were being treated for your injuries."

"What kind of records?"

"Besides the big marble and bronze industries," her brother added as if she hadn't said anything at all. "The smaller local traders and craftsmen try to compete by using the wood from the forests and the vast sap deposits from some of the older trees. This is illegal in most parts of the planet-"

_Why?_

He stopped abruptly, her mental interruption more powerful than a verbal one. "You've noticed how chaotic the humidity can be?"

Katrina nodded.

"It's an atmospheric problem that was corrected long ago by planting the forests you see today. Even now it isn't entirely stable, hence all the moisture vaporators and humidifiers around the city. Cutting down the tree population only makes the problem worse, so most harvesting is banned."

"You know an awful lot about a planet you've only been on for a few years."

Phineas smirked. "Exiles don't become mayors without at least being able to fake a native's knowledge."

"Well, I'm thoroughly impressed. Could you get back to the Sith now?"

"I was getting to that," he continued. "The illegal harvesters just bunker down anywhere, but the forests are constantly searched for groups like that. The Sith couldn't have been trying to masquerade as one of them. So I checked the mining records."

For a split seconds she remembered the mines on Anelli; crimson, chalky, and hot with the fire of crafting hand-held demolitions.

The memories were burned in her mind for different reasons, but she shook them off, staring expectantly at her brother.

"There's over a thousand mines on Chael, so they're organized by mountain ranges. One range in particular has been defunct ever since it dried up a few years ago. But recent records show that one of the mines within the range has been outputting energy. Just a tiny, insignificant amount, enough that inspectors didn't even notice it."

"So you're saying the Sith are working out of this old mine?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility."

_I hate mines._

Both shared a sad smile for a moment.

_I don't like them much either._

"But you have nothing on why they might be here? What they could be planning?"

_Or at least how many?_

If it was only five, now down to two, that was easy enough.

Phineas shook his head.

"I don't have all the answers this time," he replied softly.

The feeling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that she knew was too early to be a child kicking; the feeling that she knew to be the Force:

That feeling told her that it was not simply five down to two, that there was something else at work here.

The door to Phineas's sitting room opened, Dustil and Dathan walking in.

Dustil's arm was stiffly held at his side, a thin metal structure around his upper arm.

"Did I miss anything?" her former Padawan said.

"Looks like he'll live," the doctor said wryly, coming up to join them. "It was a pretty bad comminuted fracture, almost open. The bone tore through a lot of muscle."

She remembered the sickening crunch she had heard in the wilds, and she winced involuntarily.

"But thanks to bonemer, the wonder synthetic material, I was able to rebuild the bone, and you'll have full use of your arm again," he said to Dustil, who nodded in acknowledgment.

"However," the doctor's tone towards Dustil became a lot more severe, even though his blue eyes were fixed directly on Katrina like she had been stomping on his arm. "While I can heal bone, I can't do anything about the muscle loss and tearing. There's another synthetic material called rybcoarse they use in muscle augmentation procedures that might help, but we don't have any of that out here. So unless you want to make a trip to Coruscant or some other cosmopolitan planet, you're going to have to take it easy on that arm for a while and let it heal the old-fashioned way."

"How do you feel?" Katrina murmured, gesturing towards the thin metal structure keeping the bonemer in place until it was secure.

The young Jedi Knight shrugged. "I feel like a bunch of kath hounds with freshly sharpened teeth used my arm as a chew toy."

Katrina smiled. "They were Sith. You're not too far off."

"And you? How do you feel?" Dathan said in a low voice, turning to her.

_I feel like I'm running out of options and running low of patience._

"I feel fine."

"Fine enough that you're thinking of going back out there?"

Good intentions or no, she felt pretty certain that if she was to clock Dathan over the head with her lightsaber, no one would blame her.

"Not at the immediate moment, no."

"But at some moment?"

"Dathan…" Phineas said warningly.

"I understand that it was a pretty intense battle, and at one point you were both surrounded."

She shot Dustil a murderous glare.

"I was a little delirious when I came out of the trance," he began apologetically. "I might have accidentally re-capped the entire battle for him."

"But you can't go out there alone," Dustil added quickly. "So wait a day or so until the pain goes away, and then we can-"

"And risk irreparable muscle scarring?" Dathan exploded. "I'm beginning to see why you people are going extinct when there are Jedi this stupid."

"No. He's right," Katrina murmured, looking up at Dustil.

"It's about damn time," the doctor muttered.

The young Jedi Knight's face twisted up, and his mouth opened, ready to release another tirade.

"Would you give us a minute?" she snapped towards Dathan.

Phineas reacted immediately, coming towards the doctor and putting a hand on his shoulder to pull him away.

As soon as the pair had exited the room, Dustil threw his remaining arm up in the air, giving an exasperated sigh.

"We've fought through worse. We've defeated Sith with worse injuries than this-"

"Only when we had no other choice, Dustil."

"Revan, you can't face them by yourself," her former Padawan came closer to her, leaning in desperately like proximity would change her mind. "There are more of them than the ones that attacked us. There were tracks leading off in every direction by the Bothan freighter, way more than three. The thing was systematically torn apart and pillaged by a group of people with a base to haul it all off to."

So there was proof. Not just a feeling in her stomach.

"Why didn't you tell me this then?"

Her former Padawan raised an eyebrow. "You didn't seem very interested in the ship. Besides, the tracks in the clearing showed the same things, but they attacked us before I could tell you."

She sized up Dustil's contorted features, the metal structure around his stiff and swollen arm. Crunch.

"No."

"Didn't you hear what I said? You can't go back out there alone-"

"I can't go back out there with you either."

_"They seem to think I can learn something from you. But you wouldn't know anything about it, so I would advise you to just stay out of my way."_

Katrina remembered his hiss after the Jedi Council's decision to let him train like it was yesterday. And now Dustil Onasi stood in front of her with wounded eyes, like she had betrayed him by saying he _couldn't_ follow her.

"You're injured," she explained gently. "You need to heal first. You're not going to be any help to me out there; you can barely hold a lightsaber let alone swing one."

"It's just pain," he forced through gritted teeth. "I can work through it. Just give me a day or so-"

"You'll ruin your arm. I want you to still be able to swing a lightsaber at some point in the future. But not now. Now you rest and you wait."

"This has nothing to do with my arm, does it? It has to do with you thinking I can't do this, that I'm not ready or I haven't had enough training-"

There were many virtues she thought the Jedi Code was lacking: Trust. Sound judgment.

Patience.

"I don't think that, Dustil. I know without a doubt that you aren't ready, and you do need more training."

His response was automatic; like fighting with her was natural enough that it had an 'autopilot' setting.

"The Council said-"

"The Council said you were ready because they knew they were being exterminated and they wanted to promote as many of you as they could before the end came."

_Or maybe they hoped you would keep the end from coming._

He stared at her, cold rage in his eyes like she hadn't seen in years. They were suddenly back on Telos (the war-ravaged one, not the rebuilding ecosystem), and she was suddenly the awkward former Sith Lord asking him to stay and watch his father die.

The air was cooler. She felt like something intangible was moving around her but not leaving, like constant whispering in her ear. Dustil's contorted face seemed to relax for a moment, and he looked out the window, stepping away from her.

_Thank you, Juhani._

The Cathar appeared before her, though Katrina knew Dustil couldn't see it.

_You saved him from falling, my friend. I only reminded him of it._

The room grew silent as the Jedi's spirit vanished, the only sound the slight echo of Dustil's even breathing.

Katrina joined him at the window. "I don't, however, think you aren't capable or that you can't do this."

Dustil scoffed, but his anger was gone. She had felt it vanish along with his former Master. "You certainly give a good impression of it."

"Look, do you want the chance to prove you're a Jedi Knight? I'll give you a Trial," Katrina murmured, turning to look at him. "A real Trial, none of this roadkill nonsense the Council gave you. I want you to stay here while you heal, and try and find out more about these Sith."

"What are you going to do?" he finally answered, apparently having gone over the memory of his Trials and finding them to be as unchallenging as she had made them sound.

"Forget about me, Dustil. The Trials are about being independent, about stepping out of apprenticeship and into knighthood. Do you want it or not?"

Dustil straightened up, nodding sharply.

"Good. Then stay and investigate. Find out why they're here, how long they've been here, what they're planning, and how many, exactly how many there are."

"But Master," He fell so easily back into the role of the Padawan that Katrina smiled, wondering how he had faked the ego of a Knight for so long. "The Sith know we're here now. They know we're Jedi. Won't they try to assassinate us?"

"They won't come into the city. It's too dangerous. By the same token, don't be stupid enough to go out into the forests until you're healed."

"But they'll kill others. They'll go after excursion groups and miners, trying to lure us back out there."

She suddenly suspected that he had been taught that at the Academy too; how to make Jedi abandon their common senses and draw them into battles they couldn't win.

"I know," Katrina murmured, leaning back against the window. "That's why I'm going to leave."

_He looked so defeated, leaning over his desk, his head hung and his shoulders slumped. As defeated as she felt, running and hiding like this._

_"Promise me you'll stay together," he finally said, glancing up at her. "I'm not letting you get on that ship unless I have your word."_

_She wanted to put her arms around him, tell him that she had no intention of letting his son get taken away from him, not when he had lost Dustil's mother too, not when Dustil was the only thing he had left to remind him that Morgana had existed._

_"I promise, Carth. I won't leave him."_

She didn't want to break any promises. Not to him, not to a man who had been lied to often enough in his life.

_Somehow I think he would change his mind if he knew why I'm leaving. _

Dustil gave her an incredulous stare.

"No, Revan, I think you're getting it wrong. Leaving is actually the opposite of doing something about it."

"We're both out of commission, Dustil…" she stopped, unsure about how to finish.

Unsure about how to tell him that his arm was crushed because she had thought one thing above all other concerns in the midst of the ambush: _That probably isn't good for the baby._

For the first time her hand went to her stomach, slow and unnatural, poking and prodding it gently like something might spring out if she found the right place.

"These Sith are going to strike at some point, and neither you nor I can face them alone. Even if we waited until your arm healed, you would still be pretty much on your own."

She didn't feel like anything had changed. Her stomach didn't feel any bigger, any more painful. From the outside, certainly no one else could tell that there was a living being residing inside of it.

"I can't protect you, Dustil-"

"I don't need protecting-"

"Don't give me that fodder. You and I save each other's butts on a daily basis. This isn't about whether or not you need it. It's about my ability to give it if you do."

But that hesitation in the forest; that innate knowledge that she was about to risk two lives by her actions, one of which didn't know yet about Dark Lords or hunted Jedi- That hesitation suddenly made her stomach look incredibly different.

She couldn't fight like she used to. Jumping, flipping, taking gut-punches-they were all out of the question. And Katrina was reasonably certain of what would happenif she stopped and asked an attacker ever-so-politely if they might refrain on behalf of her unborn child. The only thing she wasn't certain of was how quick or painful her death would be.

And any kind of weakness, whether from an injury or from hesitation, could cost them their lives.

_All three of them._

"And we definitely don't have enough time to wait…" she trailed off again.

"To wait seven or eight months?"

Katrina glanced sideways at him. An awkward silence hovered like a giant air pocket between them, Dustil shuffling his feet and refusing to look at her while she kept her hand locked on her stomach.

"Right," she finally breathed. "So I'm going to leave and find us some help."

"And until you get back, I'll investigate," Dustil said quickly, looking back up at her like he hadn't just quietly acknowledged the existence of a step-sibling.

"Don't try and take them on by yourself. If they threaten civilians, however…"

"I do what?" Dustil prompted.

She smirked. "Therein lay your Trials."

"You've never trusted me with anything like this before."

_"Don't let her do anything stupid, Dustil." Father and son laughed together like it was a private joke, even though she knew it was only Carth's secret way of telling him to stay with her._

_"I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises." For a moment Carth's gaze went back to Katrina._

_She realized that he was just as afraid of losing her as he was of losing Dustil, just as afraid that she would be lying on the surface of a planet somewhere dying and this time he would not even be there to hold her._

She had shoved him into walls, tackled him in caves, and fended off his lightsaber as her only signs of affection. Now Katrina grasped his shoulder, smiling softly. "Shouldn't you get started?"

Dustil Onasi nodded, turning and exiting the room. He passed Phineas, who had cautiously opened the door.

"It sounded quiet, so I figured you were finished or you killed each other."

She smirked, gathering up her belongings. There wasn't any time to waste when every Jedi she knew of could have been thousands of parsecs away from where they had last been by now; when every Jedi she knew might have been impaled on a lightsaber by now.

"Miss-" The doctor had followed Phineas back in, and he tentatively stepped towards her.

"My name is Revan." Dathan sighed resolutely.

"Dustil is going to sit here very quietly until you tell him he can do otherwise," she added.

"Revan-"

"And don't worry, I'm not going to risk life and limb going after the Sith on my own. I'm leaving." Her brother stared at her.

_You really go from one extreme to the other, don't you? Sith Lord to Jedi Master, venturing boldly into the wilds to leaving the planet alone..._

"I'm going to get help. Dustil and I can't handle this on our own, not when he's injured and I'm…"

She did not like how easily words could take on completely new meanings; how 'pregnancy' could suddenly become a synonym for 'weakness'.

Instead of finishing her sentence, Katrina experimentally put her hand back on her stomach, keeping it there as she reached for some medpacs.

"Who are you expecting to help you, Revan?" Dathan murmured.

She glanced up at him irritatedly before continuing to pack her things.

"If all you need are common soldiers or additional security, Phin can provide that in an instant."

"They aren't any kind of threat against Sith-"

"So you need more Jedi instead," he finished darkly. "In case you haven't noticed, they're being hunted down. Going after them is practically as dangerous as going after the hunters."

"What is it, exactly, that you expect me to do, Doctor?" she snapped, whirling on him. "You've declared my only Jedi unfit for duty, and I'm fresh out of Padawans. I know very little about the Sith threat on this planet other than it's larger and more dangerous than we thought. I don't have the luxury of waiting until…"

_Oh for Force's sake, if you can't even say something about it, how are you ever going to have one or take care of it?_

_Barring that, how are you ever going to tell Carth?_

"Until this child is born to do something about it."

"You're a Jedi. You're in danger no matter where you go, and so is whatever and whoever you carry with you."

_He's right._

Phineas stood to the side, one arm folded and the other tugging absent-mindedly at his earlobe.

"You're against me too now?"

_I'm not against you. I'm against you running around pregnant without being able to defend yourself._

"I can defend myself just fine, Phineas," she shot back.

_Then why are you going to get help?_

Katrina fell silent.

_There is no inclination to blame a child for everything. There are no misplaced priorities._

"I'll go with you," Dathan suddenly said.

She stopped, staring at him like he was a krayt dragon who had decided to be become a herbivore.

"Are you out of your mind? Like I need your constant badgering in my ear."

"It might do you a world of good," he replied without missing a beat.

_He's right. Take him with you._

"I can't protect him!" she snapped impatiently. "He can't fight-"

"I was a medic in the Republic Fleet during the Mandalorian Wars."

"Really? Ever been to Telos?" she shot back nastily.

It would be easier to hate him, to keep denying that he was right if she could somehow tie him to something evil. Evil equaled hurting Carth. His wife's death, screaming for the medics: that had hurt Carth.

_Promise me you'll stay together._

Katrina glared at her brother.

_I'm not letting you get on that ship unless I have your word._

"Don't do that," she said softly.

"Don't break a promise that shouldn't be broken, especially now," Phineas replied.

Dathan stood expectantly, ice blue eyes watching her like they didn't care if she could end his life with one well placed lightning bolt.

Who knew where she might have to go to find the rest of the scattered Order? Who knew what she might have to face?

He didn't look like a soldier, but he didn't look much like a doctor either. If he could hold a blaster and aim it reasonably accurately...

Well, it was better than nothing.

Katrina returned her brother's gaze.

"Fine. Meet me at my ship by sundown." Dathan nodded.

She waited until he had exited the room to finally sigh in frustration.

_I'll watch your Padawan for you._ A brief smile came over Phineas's face. _I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid._

"Watch yourself, too," Katrina murmured. "They know there are Jedi here. Pretty soon they'll find you."

"Not if we find them first."

_Assuming I find more Jedi,_ she thought, squeezing his folded arm before picking up her pack and heading for the door.

_Assuming there are any Jedi left to find._


	8. Chapter 8

Slight spoilers in this chapter…you've been warned!

* * *

"_Thanks, Grenn." _

_He turned back to the window, sighing nervously._

_Though he shouldn't have been uneasy. The Sith threat on Telos had just been wiped out, the first serious attack on the planet since restoration began thwarted._

_It was a good feeling; like a little piece of the weight that hung constantly on his shoulders had been chipped away. Every day that he was here, every time he looked down on his homeworld and saw the patch of green and blue get a little larger, begin to creep a little more towards the expanse of dead brown; that helped to ease the weight too._

_Carth yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. This wasn't going to be easy, especially not when he was exhausted. Especially not with this dream poking itself into every part of his brain, refusing to be left in the realm of unconsciousness._

_He never had dreams. Didn't need them. Some of the days in his life had been nightmarish enough._

_She had always been the one with the visions, the nightmares; the hyperventilating, the screaming- _

_Well, those had been the old days. When he had called her Katrina, when he had known how to comfort her._

_Now when she woke up she was either incredibly angry or distantly sad. And he had found that he could do very little about either._

_Carth hadn't woken up angry or sad; he was, however, very confused._

_The dream had been about her- _Hell, what dreams aren't?

_All right, maybe it was more what she had said in it, how she had acted. More the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach._

"I have to leave."

_Leaving didn't alarm him so much. She was always leaving- it seemed like a constant in his life. Carth smirked ruefully at the floor for a moment._

_Ironic. Maybe it was the galaxy coming back to give him his due for always leaving Dustil and his wife._

That was your duty, _he reminded himself, old regrets trying to elbow their way in. _You're a soldier.

_She had said something about duty in his dream too, something about her own:_

"This is what I have to do, Carth. Paths I have to walk that no one else can."

_He did not like the idea of something she thought she had to do alone, something he couldn't save her from if he had to. _

_It felt something like the fear he had now, not knowing where she and Dustil were, not knowing if one of them was crying out his name and he couldn't hear it._

_It also didn't seem entirely fair. She had given him a purpose, helped put his life back together; how was he supposed to live that life when she wasn't around to live it with him?_

_Even a small part of her. Even a promise that she would come back would be good enough._

_But there had been no such promise in his dream._

"Where I have to go I can't bring you. I can't bring anyone I love."

_That, he had found, was the most unsettling thing about it. Like she was on her way to her own funeral._

Figures it has to happen now, _he thought, frowning. Figured that of all arrivals on his planet, a dream like this would be spurred by the arrival of a Jedi, and the arrival of that ship._

_He didn't like that the _Hawk_ was here, and she wasn't on it. It didn't seem right. Hell, it didn't _feel _right. _

_Hadn't Mission and Zaalbar had the _Hawk_? Were they now dead? Had she and Dustil sought refuge with them? _

_Were they now dead?_

No. She's not dead. I would know, I would know if she was dead. _Carth ran one hand shakily through his hair, trying to convince himself._

_But he lacked the assurance of the Force. All he had were the feelings in his gut, and all they told him was that, for better or worse, something had changed whereverKatrina and Dustil were._

_Such was his dream. Such was that he couldn't contain his curiosity, and such was that he was preparing to lie to a Jedi._

_He was breaking all of her rules, all the strict guidelines she had given him when they had fled a year ago._

_Don't mention her name to anyone; it would be too dangerous for him. If anyone asked about her, lie._

_He hadn't mentioned her name to a soul- No one on Telos dared to ask him about the mysterious Jedi woman who had been among them for a time and disappeared just as quickly anyways. _

_She and Dustil had often left on Jedi-ordained missions. And they had eased out of appearing in public as carefully as Carth had moved people off the planet when the Sith began their attack. Because of this, rumors sprung up about where they had gone and how long they had been gone, some ranging as far as four years ago._

_Letting those rumors go allowed him some peace of mind at what he was about to do. The longer people thought she had been gone, the less dangerous it was for him to ask about her._

Besides, we're both still technically in the fleet,_he thought with a wry smile._ And since I'm an Admiral and she never passed Ensign, I think I outrank her.

_But he didn't like to lie. He wasn't even particularly good at it. What kind of a lie could convince a Jedi? _

_He considered for a moment just telling the Jedi the truth, thatKatrina and Dustil were in hiding and he wanted to know where they were and if they were all right._

_His blaster poked him in the thigh, benign and silent, a far cry from when it had been loud and smoking earlier._

_Old prejudices died hard. As much as he respected, revered, and loved a few of them, he still didn't trust the Jedi. And he didn't trust this one, even though the Jedi had just helped save Telos, even though they had shown up in the _Hawk. _As he had learned from experience, even the best of them could fall._

_But he had to ask about her. He had to know._

_And to ask, he would have to lie._

_He heard the door behind him hiss open, and a few footsteps tapping across the metal floor. He waited until they stopped, straightening up and breathing evenly._

_Her face in his dream, unafraid and resolute, came back to him._

_He would use the dream as his lie, in the hopes that it wasn't the truth._

_"I wanted to thank you for what you've done to help Telos. It's a little beat up, but it's still home…"_


	9. Chapter 9

_Easy does it…_

He found that moving his arm at all was pretty much impossible. The pain distracted his other arm and made him inaccurate.

Dustil swung his weapon around experimentally in graceful one-handed circles.

It also didn't help that the arm that he couldn't move happened to be his right arm; his lightsaber arm.

He held the weapon idle for a moment, and then brought it down forcefully against a nearby chair. Three of its legs were easily sliced off, and the chair dropped to a sharp angle against the floor.

He retracted his blade, satisfied.

Not that he doubted himself. He just wanted to be sure that if he had to use it, if it came to that, that he would be all right.

That, and lightsaber practice was easy and familiar. Not a Trial in which he had no idea where to start.

_She was right, _he admitted begrudgingly. His trials on Tatooine had felt so rehearsed, like the props were laid out in all the correct spots, the actors had prepared their clichéd suspicions, and all they had done was wait for him to walk into the spotlight and react exactly how he was supposed to.

At the time, however, he had assumed it was easy because he was just that damn good.

This Trial felt like a Trial. Especially when he began gathering adjectives and found that the first one he thought of was 'hard'.

_Maybe I should stop thinking of this in terms of ease or difficulty. Maybe I should stop thinking of how I'm going to perform in this and start thinking about what the task is going to accomplish and who it's going to help, _he thought, furrowing his brow.

That was easy enough. It was the standard Jedi job description: There were Sith. He was supposed to discover how to stop them.

He knew there were a lot of them, and that they had been here long enough to establish a base somewhere within the mountain range near where they had been ambushed. That was about it.

At the Academy, recently broken arm or no, you would have plunged ahead into the wilds and pity anyone who decided to cross your path.

_Those days are long gone, _he told himself firmly. _Find another way._

There was one, but it wasn't pretty, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He would have to ask Phineas, Revan's brother, for help.

Every time he saw him, heard him laugh or met his gaze, all he saw was his Master's trembling lips, the sound of the beads in her hair knocking against the metal grating as she wheezed, the horrific aching as he watched her body disappear, leaving only her robes and those beads.

Dustil's fist tightened on the arm that had been injured, and he winced, rubbing it.

_Anger costs too much, Padawan. _He hated to think of the verb 'purred', but it was exactly what her firm and wise advice had always sounded like.

Dustil smiled wryly to himself.

_And it hurts too._

He turned, walking out of the sitting room and towards a security officer standing guard at the end of the hall.

"Can you tell me where I can find the Mayor?"

The officer stared suspiciously at him.

"I'm a guest of his," he added. The officer showed no reaction.

Dustil was suddenly aware of his still-dyed-blond hair, the dark brown roots that were beginning to show; the stubble that was creeping back onto his face after a few weeks without shaving; the thin metal structure around his injured arm; the burns on a few spots of his clothing.

_I must look like a psychopath trying to blow the place up._

"Look, how could I be back here in his private quarters if I didn't know him?" The officer's gaze softened.

"How could I have gotten past you, for that matter?"

The officer chuckled, taking his hand off his blaster. "His Eminence is in a meeting at the moment."

"Where at?"

"Down those stairs to the main foyer and in the Great Hall."

_And I didn't even have to use the Force_.

Dustil headed for the stairs.

The main foyer of Mikael's City Hall was dizzying until you got used to it. The circular staircase stretched up to the top of the tall, spiraling building. Much like the rest of the city, large humidifiers collected water and sprayed it in decorative fountains and waterfalls. Simple but massive-looking marble pillars supported the entryway.

He found the Great Hall easily; it was a huge room, marked by a pair of battle droids standing guard outside of it.

The doors were glass, and he stood outside, watching for a moment. Several men sat around a long table, conversing with one another. He didn't see Revan's brother.

"If you want to get into politics, that isn't exactly the way to do it." At first Dustil didn't look up, too irritated that he hadn't been able to sense Phineas coming.

That, and he didn't want to look at the smirk he knew was on his face.

_Calm down, he doesn't know what that smirk means to you._ Dustil finally glanced up at him.

"I need to get a few things out of you. I need to know the earlier existence and history of Sith and Jedi on this planet. I need to know exactly where this mine you think they're using is, and its history too-"

"Sure, if you could do me one favor first."

"What's that?"

Phineas cocked an eyebrow at him, straightening his blue uniform. "Move. You're in my way and I have a meeting with the City Council."

_He's obviously _her_ brother._ Dustil grabbed his arm as he tried to shove past him.

"I need your help."

He tried not to make 'need' sound as incredibly difficult as it was to say.

"Look, Dustin-" Phineas said, wrenching free of his grip.

"Dus_til_."

"Mikael is a city with a population of well over two million sentients. There is a continuous economic cycle of mining raw materials, processing them, and manufacturing products, all of which must be monitored and then turned over to local importing and exporting. That requires the port authority, which takes its orders from the government. This is, of course, not bringing into play local law issues, the ever-fluctuating atmosphere, tourism, and any other concerns the people of the city like to ply me with." Her brother leaned in towards Dustil.

"The galaxy doesn't stop for you, or for your Master, as often as she's tried. All of this now must be altered and considered against this new Sith threat-"

"Which I'm trying to stop, if you'd help me," Dustil snapped.

He found that he was loud enough that the table of men behind the glass doors were all now staring at the wild eyed and scruffy young man yelling in the Mayor's face.

_Back off. Just walk away like a normal, albeit angry constituent, and ask him later._

"Later then," he forced out, stepping away from the door.

Phineas nodded in approval, entering the Great Hall without another word to Dustil.

He fought the incredible urge he had to storm into that meeting and point out every scar he had earned on Anelli, and exactly whose hands had been the ones to shove him up against red walls of baradium-laden rock, or made him slide across metallic flooring into sparking, flaming conduits.

_Improper pride, Padawan, even pride that might be justified, will inevitably lead you down the dark path._

He smiled softly. There was always her, there to remind him of when and how he was wrong.

_Don't get cocky, Dustil. You aren't a Jedi until I tell you you're a Jedi._

And then there was her, who made absolutely _sure_ he knew when he had screwed up.

Even now, he wasn't sure which approach he liked better. Juhani personified what he aspired to be; what he thought the Jedi Order stood for. Revan…

Well, Revan was the kind of Jedi he _wanted_ to be, the kind he felt guilty for admiring. A hybrid of the two would be best.

_It would also be bi-polar, _he thought with a smirk.

No. He was a Jedi Knight (no matter what she said or what this re-trial of sorts was). He was Dustil Onasi. He was better than this.

He wandered back towards the private quarters, taking the stairs rather than one of the numerous elevators.

He couldn't see anything they possibly wanted on this planet. He doubted the Sith were in the market for a nice five-piece marble dining set.

_Especially since we killed three of them._

Marble and bronze couldn't be used in any kind of weapon he had ever heard of. There was nothing special about the tall, thin trees that populated the wilds. The fluctuating atmosphere couldn't be any good to anyone, except maybe someone who had a bad case of Dagobian Swamp Cough.

So there had to be a history of Force-users on the planet. Some kind of artifact, maybe, or former enclave maybe somewhere else on the planet that had drawn and kept them here.

_Unless, _he stopped mid-stair, turning to gaze below him at the main foyer. _Unless they're here to try and assassinate Phineas._

As much as he despised him, as much as he remembered he had wanted to slice his betraying tongue off with his lightsaber, watch his arrogant mouth fall open, speechless-

He didn't want him dead now. Dustil's fingers tapped against the railing of the staircase for a moment.

No. What interest was one Force-user that could barely aim a blaster correctly to the Sith?

_And if he had been their objective,_ he remembered clearly, swallowing hard, _they would have made a strike already_. No matter how dangerous an open attack in the middle of the city might be.

_He wondered, just for a moment, if maybe he would fall asleep quicker if there was something around him other than bland rock walls, his footlocker, and the dull eternal lighting at the end of the hall._

_Dustil chastised himself, scowling. Such thoughts were trivial, a weakness. And weaknesses were not forgiven._

_After all, the Academy wasn't a forgiving place. And it wasn't designed to help lull restless students back to sleep._

_He turned over again, watching the dull shadows of his movements waver across the smooth floor._

_Or maybe he would sleep better if Selene were here. He smirked, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes._

_Those were thoughts that would definitely be better to have in the light of day._

_A slight chill came into the room, and he turned back towards the wall. Dustil's eyes opened, studying his shadow carefully._

_It had suddenly grown another torso, one that was leaning over him with its arms drawn back over its head._

_His lightsaber flew to his hands, extended just in time to stop the red blade pressing down on his own._

_Framed within the red light and his growling accentuated by the clashing sparks of the lightsabers was Sharrdan. Dustil exploded out of bed, landing behind the Sith student and slashing violently towards him._

_"Can't sleep either, eh Sharrdan?" he snarled._

_The Sith student attacked again, answered Dustil with only an unintelligible scowl. The lights came on instantly, almost blinding him as he fought back against his attacker._

_Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small crowd gathering at the end of the hall. His only thought was irritation at how he had less room to move around, less room to counter._

_Another blade suddenly came down in between his lightsaber and Sharrdan's._

_"Enough." Master Uthar's voice was calm and impenetrable. Dustil stepped back, keeping his lightsaber protectively ignited at his side._

_"What is the meaning of this, Sharrdan?" The Sith student panted heavily, eying Dustil as if to say: _Beat this.

_"Following your advice, Master. Eliminating the competition. The strong survive, and the weak do not. Had you not intervened, I think the stronger person in this contest would be clear."_

_Uthar nodded. He turned slowly to the crowd of students behind him._

_"Observe; Sharrdan has truly paid attention to our principles. He seized an opportunity to advance and acted on it. Dustil's lack of focus preempted this attack."_

_Dustil felt his heart sink to somewhere around his abs. His forearms began to shake, but he gripped his lightsaber._

I have to be ready, _he thought, clenching his jaw. _I have to be ready to fight him off, be the stronger one.

_"However," Dustil looked up instantly, trying to keep the hope out of his face. "Your attack was cowardly, Sharrdan." Uthar's hands folded behind his back as he stood in judgment over Sharrdan._

_The Sith student stood frozen, confused and unsure about what to say._

_"Had you really desired to be the stronger, your attack would not have been committed in the dead of night, where no one could see your triumph. Who knows? You may have even been plotting to blame it on another student."_

_Dustil glanced over at where Selene stood, exchanging a relieved glance._

"_Where is glory when none will claim it?" Uthar said, lifting one hand up towards Sharrdan. "No, Sharrdan. The weaker person in this contest is clear."_

_The Sith student crumpled to the ground in pain under Master Uthar's equivalent of detention: ice blue lightning bolts from the tips of his fingers._

"His Eminence wants to see you, sir." Dustil looked up at the security officer. He had returned to the private quarters.

"In his office. Next to the sitting room," the officer added, noticing the look of confusion on Dustil's face.

He shook off the last of his memories and headed down the hallway, pushing open the door to Phineas's office.

Revan's brother glanced up momentarily at him from where he sat behind his desk. "Took you long enough." His attention turned back to the datapad in his hand.

"You shouldn't be commenting on my timeliness. You _still _haven't given me any of the information I've asked you for," Dustil snapped.

Phineas smirked down at his datapad.

_Anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue? _

_This_ guy was lecturing him on values. Dustil ground his teeth together.

_Were you this outrageous before you became a Sith? _The politician's head snapped up, his hazel eyes dark. Hard.

What Dustil imagined Revan's must have looked like about ten years ago.

"You're her apprentice, so I'm not going to have you thrown in the holding cells just for kicks," her brother said in a low voice.

He dropped the datapad. It slapped against the marble desk loudly.

"Authority is earned, not given." he said harshly. "And acting like this to get it is going to get someone a lot less understanding than I am a lot more upset with you."

There was silence, but it wasn't awkward, at least for Dustil. He used it to concentrate on keeping his face impassive, keeping his anger in check.

Keeping the realization that he respected Phineas firmly entrenched in denial.

"I've arranged for you to stay with someone who can answer your questions better than I can," the politician finally continued, pushing himself back from his desk and rising.

"I'm not staying here?"

"I didn't get the impression you particularly _wanted_ to," Phineas replied, raising an eyebrow.

"The only Jedi left on record as having been on Chael is a long deceased one by the name of Akiva Vin. You probably haven't heard of him. Apparently he married a local woman he met on a Council-ordained mission, settled down and told his grandchildren stories until he died."

"How did he die?"

"Heart attack while on an excursion."

_That's a load of bantha fodder. _Both thought simultaneously.

Dustil glanced up at Phineas.

"He left behind all his writings and most of the history of any Force-users on Chael with his descendents. Namely his grandson, Jaron Vin, who's agreed to let you stay with him."

The politician walked out from behind the desk, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding the other out towards Dustil.

"A word of warning: He's proud of his grandfather and his heritage, but he isn't Force-sensitive. He's been walking on eggshells ever since these purges began, and he only agreed to take you if I gave him the greatest assurances that you're investigating this for the city, and that you are in no way related to the Jedi." Dustil nodded.

He didn't like to lie, but it seemed like he was going to get incredibly good at it by the end of all this.

"And as for that mine..." Phineas ran a hand through his hair. "I've beaten about all I can out of both the records and the mining industry. Anything else you'll have to discover on your own."

Dustil sighed, rubbing his aching arm. "Thanks."

The politician rolled his eyes, smirking. "Don't sound so thrilled."

_Do you blame me? _

Phineas's face twisted up irritatedly, like he couldn't believe Dustil still placed some of the blame on him for the death of a woman he had never physically touched.

"Don't look at me like that. If anyone has any reason to resent anyone else in this room, it's me. Your old man knocked up my sister."

Aside from the aching in his arm, he suddenly felt a little queasy. Dustil turned and walked towards the door. He didn't need any master, alive or dead, to tell him how to react.

He was definitely not going to dignify _that_ with a response.


	10. Chapter 10

Walking up to the door of Jaron Vin's home with his pack slung over his back, Dustil felt something like a kid on his way to a sleepover.

He made a last minute check, making sure his lightsaber was completely hidden, that his supplies and his blaster were covertly stored in his pack.

Nope. He was nothing but a garden-variety drifter in his early-twenties.

A protocol droid wandered over as he lifted his hand to knock on the door.

"Greetings, sir. May I help you?"

"Uh, yes…" Dustil struggled for an official tone. "I've been sent by the Mayor of Mikael. My name is Dustil Onasi."

_I sound like a tenor in a Gamorrean choir, _he thought, shaking his head and returning back to his normal pitch.

"Certainly, Mister Onasi. Master Vin has been expecting your arrival. Please follow me."

The droid led him into the apartment- a quiet floor in a building on the edge of the city, with windows that looked out over the dense forests and the far-off mountain ranges.

It was spacious and affluently decorated without making him feel uncomfortable. Somewhat messy, but not as cluttered as he remembered their quarters on Telos always being.

Even the first house Dustil remembered (the first couple houses in fact): none of them had ever been particularly tidy. They had always moved around because of his father's position in the fleet-

_Now's not the time, Onasi, _he thought firmly.

"Master Vin," the droid called out in greeting.

Jaron Vin walked towards them, his hand already extended towards Dustil.

"I was informed that you'd be by sometime today." Dustil gripped his hand in return.

To look at him, Dustil wouldn't have guessed that he somehow had access to the history of Force-user presence on Chael. Vin looked entirely out of place in his perfectly appointed home; his arms were thick and strong like he had been mining his whole life. He was slightly taller than Dustil, portly with quickly graying blond hair on his head and a small mustache.

"I, uh, suppose that's part of a disguise of some sort," he chuckled.

"Excuse me?"

"Your appearance," Vin added, motioning vaguely towards him.

The young Jedi Knight fingered his clothing for a moment before returning Vin's smile blithely.

"Yes, something like that."

"Can't be too careful nowadays," Vin murmured, shaking his head. "I'm glad to hear that the authorities are following up on this threat so thoroughly."

"I hope I don't inconvenience you for too long, Mister Vin-"

"Oh, call me Jaron…Dustil, was it?" He nodded.

Vin turned to continue back down the hall, and Dustil hurried to follow him.

"You know, Dustil, your last name sounds awfully familiar to me. Can't quite recall where I might have heard it before."

_Try the conflict at Althir, the battle of Malachor Five, the attack on the Star Forge, Hero of the Republic…_

"Well, I suppose it'll come to me. I assume you'll want to get right down to work, so I won't waste anymore of your time with introductions," Vin said. "I'll take you to my grandfather's archives."

_Maybe someone will recognize the name 'Dustil' someday for the operation at Chael_, Dustil thought with a smirk.

"Did you know Jedi Akiva Vin well?" Vin laughed.

"Grandfather Akiva I remember mostly as a song and a story. Only later did I realize that those stories and songs were Jedi teachings and missions he had been on. You may have heard that he had a comparatively short career as a Jedi." Dustil nodded.

"He stayed here in Mikael and spent the rest of his days writing and raising children. After he died in that unfortunate accident, his archives are all the family has left of him, and pretty much all Chael has left of the Jedi."

"Jaron, have you ever considered that your grandfather's death wasn't an accident?" Immediately he regretted it, seeing the wounded look come over his host's face like he had just slapped him.

_You hairless Wookiee, you've known him all of five minutes and you just come right out with-_

"Often enough in my own mind," Vin answered softly. "As a child I couldn't accept that he had died, that a man so powerful and wise could have been taken so easily. I think I worked through my grief by imagining that the Sith in his tales had come back to exact their revenge upon him." His host sighed.

"Now, however…I begin to question yet again." He reached forward and pressed a few buttons on the control panel outside of the room they had come to.

The door opened to reveal a single computer console. Shelves of datapads and various other knickknacks lined the darkened corners. Vin turned on the lights, which illuminated the thin clouds of dust over everything.

"As you can see, no one seems to have any use for Grandfather Akiva anymore. I couldn't sense the Force if there were flashing signs and arrows leading me to it, and now there are no Jedi left on Chael."

Dustil slowly entered the room, running his fingers along one of the shelves. An old lightsaber was enclosed in a glass case higher up on it.

"I've been considering having that destroyed," Vin murmured, walking over to join him.

"Destroyed?" He tried to keep his voice impassive, even though the thought of a good lightsaber going to waste was as sacrilegious to him as scrapping a good speeder.

"I thought it might give me the courage to destroy all of this," Vin added, gesturing to the rest of the room. "I had thought I was honoring my grandfather's memory, but what good is it when none of us can understand? It has become a curse, this Jedi Order of his. It has become a death mark, one my family cannot afford."

His host's face seemed to tighten, showing the strain Dustil felt daily at having to constantly look over his shoulder.

"Nothing is worth my family's safety. Not even an old man's archives and an endangered Order's history."

Dustil resisted the urge to pat his clothing, make sure his own lightsaber was secure, that it wasn't going to fall out from under his robe any minute now and expose him as the Jedi Knight he was.

"Besides, my children are beginning to ask too many questions. I've tried to keep them ignorant of all this, for their own protection."

Vin's face finally relaxed, and he wiped some dust off the glass case, turning away abruptly.

"This console contains most of Akiva's journals and findings," his host murmured, stepping over towards the computer and gesturing towards the dusty seat, which Dustil took.

The ancient console powered up with little hesitation. Dustil blew the coating of dust off its screen, examining the contents.

There were journal entries dating from nearly four decades ago, annals of Council-ordanied missions designated by the Masters that had assigned them. He noted the name 'Ahniuk', one of the members of the current Council, among them.

Dustil opened one at random.

_ERROR: ENTER ACCESS CODE._

"You didn't say anything about them being encrypted," he murmured up to Vin. His host smiled.

"Yet another reason why his archives are of no use to us. Most of them we cannot access. When, to my grandfather's disappointment, none of his children proved Force-sensitive, he began to stockpile what he knew in hopes of taking on an apprentice or starting a Jedi Academy here on Chael. He intended his archives to be a teaching tool, and encrypted them with the understanding that a user of the Force would be able to open them somehow. Far over our unassuming non-Jedi heads, eh?"

Dustil laughed along with him far louder than he intended to be.

He tried reaching out with the Force; seeing children running, an old man's resolution as he sat at this very desk writing, the feelings of failure as the lightsaber was enclosed in the glass case.

But there were no access codes. Whatever the trick was, he wasn't getting it.

"Did Akiva ever succeed in finding an apprentice or starting an Academy?"

Vin shook his head. "Any Force-sensitives on Chael were discovered before he could find them and sent off to wherever the Jedi do their training. And as for the Academy, he got about as far as staking himself out a small meditation grove. He had intended to purchase the land around it and build a full Academy, but died before those dreams could ever be realized."

_Is this grove anywhere around that mine? Is it the mine? Could it have some kind of significance that might make Sith want to hang around here for a while?_

Unfortunately none of these questions could be answered by his host, and they couldn't be answered here, unless he somehow found his way into these archives.

Even then, there was no archive that could help him to know what might be special about the grove as well as actually visiting it could.

"_By the same token, don't be stupid enough to go out into the forests until you're healed."_

"Where is this grove?" Dustil asked, ignoring the familiar voice in his head.

"On some family property at the edge of the city. Well within the excursion boundaries, but the trail that used to lead past it was discontinued years ago. It's been forgotten."

He would have felt better about the decision he was about to make if it had also been near to a route groups of people took on a regular basis, but near to the city was about the best he was going to get.

_She meant 'Don't go after the Sith', _Dustil told himself. _This is perfectly acceptable._

Besides, even if it wasn't, that was the point of a Trial. To act on your own without taking advice or instruction from a Master.

He chose not to think about the possibility that he was taking that definition a bit liberally.

"Jaron, I'm going to need to get to this meditation grove of your grandfather's. You wouldn't happen to have any droids I can borrow?"

* * *

_Finally, _Dustil thought grimly, slicing through the last of the underbrush blocking his path to the structure up ahead.

The grove looked like ruins from some kind of ancient civilization. Overgrown bushes and trees blocked most of the light from the sun out, leaving small spotlights on various pillars and steps.

_Depending on your point of view, nearly four decades ago might as well be an ancient civilization._

Something tugged painfully on him, and he unwound another branch from the thin metal cast around his arm.

"Awaiting your instructions, sir," the droid behind him said loudly, making Dustil jump.

_Jaron's fooling himself if he thinks this bucket of bolts is going to protect him from a Sith attack, _he thought, giving the droid a once-over. It looked like something that might have been used in the wars against Exar Kun.

"Just wait here. Help me out if there's trouble."

"Understood."

The meditation grove was built like a miniature and vastly watered-down version of the Temple on Coruscant. It was open on all sides, with pillars supporting an open roof and four large columns on each corner.

He could sense the lingering of a long dead ghost here; that this was intended to be a place of safety and knowledge.

He gripped his lightsaber, still not feeling particularly safe.

The grove didn't look or feel like anything special. Certainly nothing that would keep Sith assassins holed up in an abandoned mine. Plus there were no signs of tampering- the Sith hadn't been to this grove at all. Dustil relaxed, somewhat disappointed.

There were no computer consoles or supplies left behind- the interior of the small structure stepped down into a flat platform that looked like it had been used for meditation. Dustil sat down on it in the vain hope that something might come to him.

_Right, Dustil. Like the access codes for those archives are going to be right in front of your face._

The stones in front of him looked faintly carved. He brushed the leaves and dirt off of them.

"There is no emotion, there is peace…" he murmured, recognizing the familiar words.

Right next to them, as if to offer comparison and contrast, was the first line of the Code of the Sith: _Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

The rest of the carving alternated between the two codes; one line from the Jedi, the next from the Sith.

He felt a strange urge to recite them.

The next line was easy.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." _Through passion, I gain strength._

The next line went back to the Sith code he had tried so many times to forget. But to his disappointment, this line was as easy to remember as the last.

"Through strength, I gain power." _There is no passion, there is serenity._

A rush of wind came through the building, pushing against him and blowing leaves around in small funnels.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony." _Through power, I gain victory._

"Through victory, my chains are broken." _There is no death, there is the Force._

He felt very much like someone was looking over his shoulder, observing his efforts in amusement. His hand tightened on his lightsaber, but he finished the recitation.

"The Force shall free me."

_Many years have I waited for you, young Jedi._

Dustil sprung up out of his sitting position, whirling around with his lightsaber. There was no one around him.

_Calm down. He's in your head, he can't do much harm there. _But he knew that was the place where some of the worst damage could be done.

"Akiva Vin?" he murmured cautiously.

_I am surprised to hear there are those who remember my name. _Specks of blue that he had thought were pieces of dust or leaves blowing through the wind came together to form the wavering ghost of Akiva Vin.

His host looked nothing like his grandfather, a tall, solid figure with long hair.

_I ask for access codes, I get a conversation with the man himself. Not too shabby, Onasi._

"I'm sorry to trespass on your meditation grove-"

_It was not intended to be my personal sanctuary, young Jedi, _Akiva answered, gesturing around him. _Rather it was to help all those who seek the Force find answers._

"Do you know anything of the Sith threat currently on Chael?" The ghost looked blankly at him.

_I know only of what has been. I am a guide only, not a prophet._

The specter wasn't all in Dustil's head. From out of the floor he noticed a small holoprojector. The vision of the Jedi was part Akiva's spirit, part pre-programmed recording.

_Something like a bastardized holocron, _Dustil thought.

"Then what about previous Sith activity? Was there any such threat during your lifetime to this planet?"

_I recorded all information pertaining to my history as a Jedi, as well as any encounters I may have had with the Sith in my archives, t_he ghost said, tossing a hand carelessly like those were minor concerns.

Dustil frowned. _Which doesn't help me very much because I can't get into them._

"Then what are the access codes to your archives?"

Akiva Vin raised an eyebrow, laughing softly at him.

_Do you know what is in my archives, young Jedi?_

"No, because they're encrypted," he snapped impatiently before he could stop himself.

The ghost looked up somewhere above Dustil's head, his eyes distant even for a dead person's.

_The Sith may appear to desire a planet or a person for power or credits, goods and services that will help them in their quest. But what is their quest?_

"I-"

_What is the purpose of the Sith, or for that matter, the Jedi? t_he ghost continued, ignoring him.

_Do we exist merely to oppose each other? Were our teachings brought into this galaxy to balance it?_

Dustil glanced above him, wondering what it was the dead Jedi saw that was making him look so loftily off into the distance.

_My archives deal with these very questions, young Jedi, _Akiva continued, looking back at Dustil. _There is evidence here on Chael, evidence that gives these answers. Evidence that points elsewhere, evidence that comes very close to discovering why we have been fighting the Sith for so very long._

"All right," Dustil finally managed to get in, "And I would love to explore this knowledge and the depth of your findings, except that I _can't access them-_"

For a moment the ghost seemed to smirk mockingly at him.

_You must leave now, young Jedi. To find what you seek, read my archives._

"No, wait a minute-" Before he could get another word out, the ghost flickered and disappeared back into the stone flooring.

_Should Master Jolee ever join the ranks of dead Jedi, I know which one he'll be idolizing._

He considered re-reading both codes, bringing the ghost-holocron back to life again. But there was no guarantee it would even work, and even if it did he would probably receive the same answers, if he received any at all.

Mostly he just wanted to kick the damn stone the vision had projected out of for being so vague.

_Akiva was probably imagining eager followers visiting his grove anyways. Not desperate half-Knighted Jedi looking for answers about assassins._

Dustil trudged back towards the path he had followed here, where Jaron's assault droid stood waiting.

Answering the question of why the Sith fought the Jedi… he admitted it was pretty weighty stuff. But Sith weren't interested in knowledge- he knew that much from experience.

_Why did you join the Sith, Dustil? _The Cathar had been the only one he remembered that hadn't made him angry when she asked it, hadn't sounded accusatory or pitying in her inquiry.

_Well, it definitely wasn't for power or credits, goods and services._

The wilds ended back at the gates to the city, and Dustil started ambling back towards Jaron's home.

_No, _he thought with a small, sad smile. _In the beginning, it was mostly for a girl._

_"You know, I think I'll have another." He watched that knowing smile creep onto her small, delicate face._

_"You haven't even touched the one in front of you, Dustil." He didn't care if it was a pretty poor tasting Corellian whiskey knock-off. He'd swill the whole bottle if it meant that this girl would stay sitting across from him, smiling like that._

_"I'd better get back anyways," Selene murmured. "They don't like us to be out late."_

_"You're always using 'they' as your excuse to get rid of me. Who's 'they'? Your jailers? Your parents?"_

_She fell back in her chair, laughing in that high airy giggle he loved hearing._

_"No, definitely not my parents." _

_"I might have to meet this 'they' if I ever expect to take you anywhere nicer than the cantina in Dreshdae."_

_"I don't recall you ever asking me out on a date, Dustil," Selene replied slyly._

_Dustil reached across the table to touch her hand where it rested on the glass in front of her._

_"Might have to change that, too."_

_From out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two aliens enter the cantina, making their anxiousness to avoid eye contact all too obvious._

_"We should leave," he whispered, feeling that odd tightness within his chest again._

_Somehow he knew…somehow he always knew when something dangerous was about to happen._

_"Why…" Selene began, trailing off as the two aliens- a Rodian and a thick Twi'lek- brandished their weapons._

_"Hand over all your credits, and this won't get ugly," the Twi'lek said quietly._

_Security in Dreshdae wasn't tight, and Dustil wasn't surprised that these thugs had managed to avoid it. Hell, the bartender hadn't even carded the two of them. Patrons began listlessly handing over the contents of their bags and packs. The Rodian reached his table._

_He didn't have a lot of credits left. _And I'm not about to hand them over to some bug-eyed piece of fodder with a blaster.

_"You can have your credits when you pry them from my cold, dead fingers." _

_The Rodian started ranting in his own language, and the Twi'lek smiled, lifting his blaster._

_"If that's what must be done."_

_He heard the sound of a lightsaber coming to life. He hadn't heard one until he had reached this planet, but the sound was made often enough here that he could recognize it easily._

_What surprised him, however, was that the glowing red blade was in Selene's hands._

_"You might want to consider who you're threatening."_

_"The Sith Academy seems to be churning out more and more idiotic students these days."_

_Dustil's hand gripped the hilt of his vibroblade. "Don't insult her."_

_"Who are you to be giving orders, you Republic piece of trash?"_

_Calling him a piece of trash was one thing. Saying he was part of the Republic…part of what _he _had left him for…_

_That made him almost as angry as when someone used his full name, and attached 'Onasi' to 'Dustil'. Like he wanted that name. Like he wanted to be connected with _that _particular piece of Republic trash._

_Dustil pulled out his vibroblade, and in one swift motion ran it through the midsection of the Rodian in front of him. The Rodian gasped, dropping his blaster and convulsing until he collapsed on the floor._

_The Twi'lek fired just as Selene, cool and calm as ice, decapitated him with her glowing weapon._

_He felt like he needed more things to destroy, something else to take his anger out on. He felt like continuing his assault with his vibroblade and bashing through the rest of the people in the cantina-_

_"Dustil." He glanced over at Selene, who had put her weapon away and now had her hand around his wrist, gently pulling him out of the cantina._

_"You knew what they were going to do…before they did it," she whispered._

_He nodded breathlessly._

_"I've never seen anyone so quick with a vibroblade either," Selene added._

_He nodded again, unable to concentrate on much else other than the pounding of his own heart. That, and the fact that her hand was still around his wrist._

_"I better get out of here before the Czerka people show up," Dustil murmured, putting away his vibroblade and getting ready to sneak back towards the docks._

_"Where will you go? You have no ship, no friends."_

_"You really know how to make a guy feel special," he replied, smirking at her._

_"Dustil," Selene continued, amusement nowhere in her determined and icy features. "You have power. Power that shouldn't be wasted by wandering around from port to port."_

_"Power? Selene, what are you talking about?"_

_"You can see things before they happen. You have fast reflexes. The Force is strong with you, Dustil. I feel it."_

_The connection he had felt to her had seemed so strong- more than he had ever felt around any other girl. He wondered for a moment if it was the Force, if there was more to it than the skipped beats his heart had when she was around._

_"Come with me," Selene said, leaning closer to him._

_"Where?"_

_"To the Sith Academy."_

_He pictured the two large statues just outside of Dreshdae; towering and powerful, old as the volcanic rock they were carved out of and twice as intimidating._

_"To 'they'," he added. Selene smiled softly._

_"It's amazing, Dustil. It's so much more than the ability to deal with space-slugs like that. We learn to harness our power, to use our emotions against our enemies. Think of it; anyone who ever wronged you cowering in fear. Anyone who ever hurt you living to regret it." She paused. _

"_But not for very long."_

_The Force, the Sith; lightsabers and powers he didn't know he had. For a moment, Dustil glanced in the direction of the docks._

_There was nothing for him in that direction. Only the memories of the sky falling, calling out for his mother (never his father, what was the use when he knew he would never come?), falling, bleeding, screaming, dying-_

_And in the other direction, under the guard of those large looming statues- lightsabers and powers he didn't know he had, and this beautiful dark-haired girl in front of him, smiling and telling him he could make anyone who had ever hurt him live to regret it._

_But not for long._

_Dustil straightened up, squeezing her hand for a moment before returning it to the hilt of his vibroblade. _

_"Lead the way."_

He found himself back at Jaron's door. Dustil powered down the assault droid, stepping past the protocol droid who had opened the door for him.

"Was your trip a success, sir?" the droid murmured, staring disdainfully at the motionless assault droid like he couldn't believe he was expected to clean it up.

"No, 'success' wouldn't be an accurate description," Dustil muttered.

He would have to spend the rest of his time in that dusty room of archives- reading datapad after datapad, trying to figure out the access codes.

What a man's thoughts on the age-old battle between the Sith and the Jedi might mean in the long run he didn't know; but the history of Force-user activity on the planet would definitely be helpful.

"Where's Jaron?" he murmured, turning back to the protocol droid.

"He's out taking care of some business." For a second he wondered how the protocol droid had changed its voice so completely. Then he realized that the undeniably female voice, slightly teasing and slightly curious, had come from behind him.

Dustil turned around.

"I hope you're not here to rob the place. You're certainly dressed for it."

A young woman with an arm full of datapads, curly blond hair, and an impish smile on her face that said she would be highly amused rather than alarmed if he was, in fact, here to rob the place stood in front of him.

"And who are you?"

"Tova. Jaron's my father."


	11. Chapter 11

_She recognized where she was far sooner than why or who had brought her here. Hundred of small ships amassed outside the giant windows, some forming ranks, other performing drills, but all of them in motion like a swarm of insects._

_She recognized the Star Forge. And she recognized the thick gloves over her hands, the hard iron armor against her chest, the smooth mask she felt as she involuntarily reached up to rub her eyes._

_She did not like how comfortable the mask felt. She did not like how underwhelming the Star Forge and all its byproducts were, even now as she knew everything about it, how it was created, and what she had done with it._

_She sighed, finally seeing him standing near the end of the hallway. She recognized the tattoos on his head, the Jedi robes he wore, the odd posture with his legs spread wide and his arms folded uncomfortably in front of him…_

_The line of his jaw._

_"Malak, why do you keep doing this?" she murmured softly, walking towards him._

_"My every triumph, my eventual fall…both were precipitated by your actions, Revan. My life revolved around you," His voice, however, was not that of young Malak, of Malak in happier days. It was mechanical and dry, what she imagined someone would sound like if they swallowed iron. "It seems only fitting that my afterlife is content to do the same."_

_He did not sound bitter or cruel; he wasn't doing this for revenge. She wondered if he had any control over it at all._

_"I might have set you on a path, but every step you took down it was your own," she replied stubbornly._

_Malak smiled softly, gently; like the Malak of decades ago, a pale, orphaned boy from the red dusty planet of Anelli._

_"I stepped in your footprints, Revan. They were large enough to eclipse any I thought to make myself."_

_She stood next to him, remembering how comforting it had been to have him in the doorway of her mother's sickroom; how even though he never knew what to say or do, he had always been there._

_But she still didn't feel guilty for killing him- he hadn't been her friend then._

_"You waste time, Revan," he murmured. "It isn't like you. Do what you must."_

_Reluctantly but with no less force or power than when she had originally done it, she reached up easily and clenched her fist._

_The Republic spy gasped and clawed at his pulsing jugular for a moment. Then with a final lolling of the tongue, he collapsed, limp and lifeless at her feet._

_The sound she heard next, however, was not her own evil laughter or the death rattle of the Republic spy. She felt a tug on her robes._

_"Mommy?"_

_She glanced up at Malak, who looked equally confused._

Katrina pushed herself to edge of her bed, letting her feet dangle for a moment before touching them to the icy cold metal floor of the _Chaser._

It never failed- as soon as she reconciled herself with her actions in one memory, another sprung up to taunt her. There was no shortage of murders or torture sessions in her past.

_There are worse things to remember, _she told herself firmly, stretching and crossing to her clothing. _There are far worse things to dream about._

There were also far worse ways for them to end. She tugged on her shirt absent-mindedly, wondering why it wouldn't button.

"_Mommy?"_

Katrina sighed in frustration. Her stomach had succeeded in finally looking different; it had grown slightly. Slightly enough that her clothing wouldn't fit her comfortably anymore.

_There are no misplaced priorities._

She rummaged through the few belongings she had taken on the _Chaser, _finding that the only piece of clothing that wouldn't dig into her sides was her old Jedi robes.

_If Sith find you, there are a lot more distinguishing characteristics than a set of robes that'll make them remember you._

Her hand went back to her stomach, the only feeling a slight tingling in her fingertips that told her that this creature was alive, this creature who had tugged on her robes and called her 'Mommy' in a voice so high and soft that it was neither male nor female yet.

Katrina headed towards the cockpit.

Dathan- the earliest riser she had ever seen- sat bolt upright in the co-pilot's chair like any minute he expected to take evasive maneuvers.

He eyed her for a minute.

"You're hitting the second trimester-"

"Good morning to you too," Katrina replied, flouncing down into the pilot's chair.

"The nausea should be gone, but you might start to have trouble sleeping-"

_That particular problem has little or nothing to do with me being pregnant._

"In a month or two you should be able to feel the baby moving-"

For a second she wondered what that might feel like; if it would itch terribly somewhere she couldn't reach, if it would tickle with hands she couldn't fend off.

"Let's hope that it isn't in the midst of a firefight or anything."

Dathan sighed exasperatedly. "I'm only trying to help. That 'doctor' in front of my name isn't just for show. I actually, believe it or not, know something about medicine."

The _Chaser_'s console began to beep, and she watched as his inexperienced hands hunted for the correct buttons to silent it.

_But apparently nothing about controls on an average ship, _she thought, smirking.

"It's a message," he finally said, leaning over the panel like that was going to help him learn it better.

_It's Dustil._

"It's Dustil, that young man who was with you-"

"I know who Dustil is, thanks," Katrina cut him off nonchalantly, unable to keep an amused smile off her face as she opened her former Padawan's message.

The nature of a Trial meant that she couldn't offer instruction or guidance to Dustil, but it said nothing about him sending back information to her.

_Akiva Vin…_She didn't recognize the name. She was beginning to see that there were two brands of Jedi- the kind that boldly ventured into all corners of the galaxy, believing that it was their Force-given right to play protector to any sentient they happened to come across, the kind that reached great heights of fame and fortune or fell to the very lowest depths because of their pride.

The other kind reminded her, oddly enough, of a Jedi long dead: Nemo, the humble knight who had been killed investigating the ruins on Dantooine, who had told her that being on the Council didn't measure a Jedi's wisdom or worth.

_Akiva sounds like the second kind._

Dealing with why the Jedi fought the Sith, however…Katrina shook her head, closing his message.

That was something she'd ponder later. Right now they had almost reached their destination.

"You know, out of all the things I thought I'd be doing right now, landing on the Wookiee homeworld wasn't one of them," Dathan murmured.

"If you'd rather be back on Chael trading barbs with my brother, I'll be more than happy to drop you off," she replied, piloting the _Chaser _down into the atmosphere of Kashyyyk.

"I sure hope you know Shyriiwook or you have some Wookiee pals," Dathan added, leaning over towards the window to get a better look at the planet. "From what I've heard, they're not too friendly since the uprising against the Czerka."

"I helped start that uprising." The doctor glanced over at her.

"Don't worry," Katrina continued, ignoring his shocked and speechless face. "They know me here."

The immense trees of Kashyyyk betrayed none of the changes she knew had gone on here. They had hidden both the Czerka occupation and the subsequent Wookiee uprising beneath dense foliage and mile wide trunks.

She hovered above the trees, getting ready to start weaving in and out of the branches in search of the landing platform.

A flash of green came hurtling towards her, and Katrina recognized it as gun turret fire a few seconds too late. The _Chaser _yawned to the left, but the blaster fire hit anyways, making it shimmy violently for a few seconds.

"I thought you said you've been here before!" Dathan snapped, his knuckles turning white from gripping the armrests of his chair.

"I have!" Katrina snapped back, hurrying to steady the ship.

_Have there been more changes since I was here last? For example, have Sith come back to this planet and taken over?_

"Which are you better at, piloting or firing a gun turret?" she said, punching various controls as fast as her fingers could move.

"I…" Dathan fumbled for words, looking from control panel to her and back to control panel again. "Well, I wasn't really ever in a position to fly or operate heavy artillery during the Wars…I was mostly on the front lines-"

"Stop stammering and _pick one_!" she snapped as another volley of blaster fire sent the ship into a slow spiral.

Dathan bolted for the _Chaser_'s single gun turret. Katrina gripped the controls, dipping down in between the trees. The _Chaser _was a small ship, but she still scraped loudly against the branches, whining softly as she tore through leaves.

_How did Carth make this look so damn easy? _Katrina thought, struggling to right the ship and avoid any more obstacles.

She watched red blaster fire shoot out from the ship, making a small explosion somewhere off in the distance.

"Got one of their turrets," Dathan's voice said, calm and informative.

Static crackled over the com for a moment and then she recognized the loud braying of a Wookiee.

_Or the only change is that I'm here in a different ship and they don't recognize me._

"Stop firing!" Katrina shouted.

"You just told me to get on the turrets!" Dathan shot back over the com. "Make up your mind!"

"This isn't the same ship. They're reacting exactly like they should."

She shook her head, chastising herself for not realizing it _before_ the doctor had destroyed one of their defenses.

"Cease your fire. I'm a friend of Freyyr's," she replied quickly, finally spotting the empty landing platform.

"The mighty Freyyr welcomes no outsiders, infidel," the Wookiee growled back.

"His son Zaalbar has a life-debt to me. This is Revan. I'm here to see both the chief and his son."

"Revan? The Dark Lord?" The Wookiee sounded less aggressive and more confused.

_Having two names can cause problems._ _Especially when the wrong one can get your ship blown up._

"No, no, my name is Katrina," she added quickly. "I helped your tribe against the Czerka four years ago."

There was more static for a moment. Finally the flurry of green blaster fire stopped, and the _Chaser _landed clumsily on the aging platform.

Katrina fell back in her chair, blowing a puff of air up against her forehead in exhaustion.

_I hate flying._

"You should have sent a transmission out immediately, human."A black Wookiee with random spots of gold greeted them as they walked down the gangplank. "Less damage might have been done."

"I apologize for that," Katrina murmured, coming towards the Wookiee. Dathan was right behind her, an assault rifle dangling from his arms as he stared up in awe at the giant trees of Kashyyyk.

"I didn't know you had re-equipped the transmission devices. Didn't the tribe tear it all out when you drove out the Czerka?"

The Wookiee shrugged.

"We are not the savages the Czerka thought us to be. We are more cautious these days, but we have not cut ourselves off from the rest of the galaxy."

"Did you catch any of that?" Dathan whispered in her ear.

"They're planning on using you as a ritual sacrifice. If you have any last words, you should say them now."

The doctor snorted angrily behind her.

"You are to be taken before the mighty Freyyr as your requested, human. His son, Zaalbar, is also in the village and would no doubt like to speak to you." The Wookiee turned to lead them back towards Rwookrrorro.

"Look, Miss Dark Lord, you'd better start filling me in on what's going on," Dathan snapped, gripping her arm. "For starters, who or what are you hoping to find here?"

"My friend Zaalbar and his father are here. They're going to give me information on where a few of my friends might be."

"Jedi friends?"

"Possibly." _Hopefully._

As much as she respected Mission and Zaalbar, she recalled too many times that Sith had put them into stasis, or slammed them against walls, or electrocuted them until they were unconscious. They would have the best of intentions, but they wouldn't be much help to her in a battle against a group of specialized Force-using assassins.

And she didn't want them hurt protecting her either.

_Something warm scratched against her cheeks, and she smiled. _

_"Morning, Admiral," she murmured, her voice quiet and groggy._

_"Morning, gorgeous."_

_No matter what she might have dreamed of, this was the best way to wake up from it._

_She rolled over slightly to gaze up at Carth's resolute face; the stubborn set of his jaw, the determination in his eyes._

_She sighed. She figured he might try something like this today; her last morning before she and Dustil left._

_"You twodon't have to do this, Revan," he said, his voice much harsher than the way his fingers were running through her hair._

_"Is this your last-ditch effort? I can think of a couple other ways you might have changed my mind that involve waking me up in bed."_

_She was laughing but he wasn't. She pushed herself up, grasping his hand._

_"This is a stupid idea," he began, and she could tell he had been practicing the speech all morning. "The Citadel is well-protected, we're in Republic space, you're both capable Jedi Knights…they have much less of a chance getting to you here than the two of you running around in that piece of scrap metal ship on the fringes of the galaxy."_

_"Piece of scrap metal? I think you'd better apologize to the _Chaser _before we leave."_

_Carth smirked._

_"I, uh, I guess there's no chance I can change your mind, is there?" His hands went over her neck and arms like he was memorizing them. "There's also a Republic Admiral here with more than forty years of life experience that might be able to keep Sith-scum at bay."_

_Her own hands rested on the long scars on his arm, relics of the assassination attempt from Anelli._

_"They'll kill you, Carth," she replied, staring him straight in the eyes. "They'll kill you and everyone on this planet if they want to get to me and Dustil badly enough."_

Besides, _she thought, smiling to herself, _you're not that good at keeping Sith at bay. Your son was a star pupil on Korriban and your quasi-wife was a Dark Lord.

_Carth sighed, pressing his lips to her forehead with probably much more force than he intended. Like if he kissed her hard enough, she might not fade away like every other Jedi in the galaxy._

Rwookrrorro looked much more alive than it had four years ago. There were many more Wookiees- even children running around as if the planet had never been enslaved.

Before she could even enter the chief's hut, however, she was blindsided by a blur of dangling vibroblades and blue headtails.

"Katrina!" Mission Vao might have gotten taller and four years older, but her enthusiasm hadn't taken a beating in the slightest. She threw her arms around Katrina, a bright smile on her face.

"Boy, am I glad to see you. When we didn't hear from you, Zaalbar and I thought for sure some Hutt-spawn Sith had gotten to you. Well, it was really more Big Z than me…I always knew none of 'em could defeat you-"

"Mission," she broke in, putting her hands up to interrupt. "I'm glad to see you too, but what are you doing here?"

"Big Z and I came back so he could visit the family. Honor, the chieftain's son…you know, that whole deal," the Twi'lek continued breathlessly. "And I intended on leaving him here and maybe striking it out on my own for a bit, but we can't leave now, not with…"

Mission trailed off, glancing behind Katrina to where Dathan stood.

"Who's this guy?" she said warily. "You didn't dump Carth, did you?" The expression on her face said that if Katrina ever considered anything of the sort, she would have to contend with the Twi'lek.

She fidgeted with her robes around her stomach, smirking. _Nope, definitely haven't considered it._

"This is Doctor Eli Dathan. He's traveling around with me as backup…it's kind of a long story."

Dathan nodded in greeting to Mission, who leaned in towards Katrina conspiratorially.

"Oh good…cause, no offense to Carth or anything, but this guy's better looking. And younger-"

She considered tripping the Twi'lek's feet out from under her to teach her a lesson, but ultimately decided against it. "You can't leave now because…?"

Mission took her arm, pulling her inside the chieftain's hut.

"That's kind of a long story too. Zaalbar and his dad can tell it a lot better than I can." The two Wookiees in question stood near the back of the hut, quietly growling to each other.

Freyyr looked much weaker than she remembered him; almost feral and snarling in the Shadowlands. His fur was almost completely white, with a few patches of grey left here and there. His posture was no longer the proud stance of a wronged father. Instead he was slightly bent over, his eyes glassy and calm.

Zaalbar stood next to him; Bacca's blade hanging from his side, tall and wise from experiences he hadn't planned on having.

She began to see exactly what had prompted the Wookiee's return to his homeworld.

"Welcome, Katrina," Freyyr said, turning to her.

Even the throaty inflection she remembered him having as he spoke his native language was diminished. Growls sounded more like whimpers; roars more like moaning.

"It's an honor to see you again, Freyyr."

If a Wookiee could smile warmly without it looking like he was baring his teeth, Zaalbar was doing it.

"I am relieved to see that you are alive, my friend," he added. "I obeyed your wishes as part of my life-debt to follow my own path through the galaxy, but I admit there were many times I thought of disobeying you when these Sith assassins began hunting the Jedi down."

"You're here now, when I need you most. That's as much of fulfilling your life-debt as I ever wanted."

"He has a life-debt to you?" Dathan murmured, impressed.

"Does the Republic pilot no longer travel with you?" Zaalbar said, motioning to the doctor.

For just a second she wished she was actually Carth's wife. Then she wouldn't feel like she was in some sophomoric holovid where everyone was wondering where the pregnant girl's boyfriend was.

"He's back on Telos, rebuilding his home. Much like you, I see."

Zaalbar fingered the handle of Bacca's blade, humbly absorbing her praise.

"My son will be a great chieftain someday," Freyyr growled, patting his son on the shoulder. "I am advancing in years, and the people will look to him to lead them. But those are concerns for another day. Why have you returned to us, Katrina?"

"Not that I'm not relieved to finally see someone else who isn't covered in fur," Mission added.

Katrina gave them a sardonic smile. "Hunting Jedi. I assume, Freyyr, that you've heard of the rising conflicts between the Jedi and the Sith."

The aging Wookiee nodded.

"The battles between the ones who carry lightsabers have been a constant in the galaxy, though we have heard more of them in recent days."

"They've even changed the name of war for them," Dathan murmured, finally finding an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. "The Jedi Civil War."

_Though that's not exactly an accurate title. It's not like I'm fighting against Master Vandar or anything._

"There's a group of Sith massing on an obscure planet in the Atravis sector. Dustil's there now looking into it, and I'm hoping the two of you have heard something about Jolee or Bastila."

Jolee she hadn't seen since before Dustil had been prematurely knighted. Bastila she hadn't seen since the Jedi's own knighthood ceremony a few years ago. The bond between the two was strong, but it weakened over time and distance, and all it told Katrina now was that the Jedi was alive somewhere.

And as for the other one…Jolee Bindo was always difficult to sense. Enigmatic and stubborn, he was probably right in his element hiding from the Sith. _He could be right under their noses and they wouldn't be sure if they were sensing a Jedi or a particularly strong holocron._

"The older human, Jolee- he has returned here," Freyyr finally replied.

_Like I said, right under their noses, _Katrina thought, relieved.

"The old man's been holed up in the Shadowlands ever since the heat started turning up on the Jedi," Mission said. "He comes up now and again for supplies, but mostly keeps to himself. Anti-social, I'd say."

"He explained the dangers, Mission," Zaalbar chastised the Twi'lek. "And now I believe they have come despite his precautions."

She reached out, searching the planet for Jolee's mule-headed presence. All she got for her trouble was a headache.

"Dangers? What's happened? Is Jolee in trouble?" Katrina watched Mission shuffle her feet nervously, Zaalbar suddenly becoming very interested in a patch of fur on his arm.

"Where's the _Hawk_, Zaalbar?" Katrina continued. "And what's this Mission's telling me about how she can't leave the planet? You don't look like you're facing any threats for the time being."

The Twi'lek and the Wookiee exchanged glances.

"We thought you had the _Hawk,_" Mission murmured.

"Me? Why would I have it? I haven't been on that ship in nearly four years."

"Well…it was kind of…" The Twi'lek rubbed her neck, avoiding Katrina's gaze. "Stolen."

"The _Ebon Hawk_?" Dathan sputtered. "The ship that helped destroy the Star Forge? Someone managed to _steal_ it?"

"Zaalbar and I had stopped on Korriban…you remember Korriban-" Katrina nodded hurriedly.

"We were in Dreshdae picking up some supplies, you know? And all of a sudden a couple of starry eyed space drifters come up to us, raving about how they saw us on the newsvids, and how we were heroes and we had traveled with the rumored Dark Lord Revan." Mission smirked as if remembering them fondly. "They were just a couple of kids, no more than fourteen- Big Z and I couldn't leave 'em hanging!"

Katrina simply nodded. She wasn't even going to try and point out the obvious hypocrisy in that sentence.

"So pretty soon a crowd gathers around and everyone thinks we've got you stashed away somewhere or you're off breaking into the old Sith Academy or something. Well, Zaalbar and I figured that it was about time to get out of there before the rumors really started to fly, so we headed back towards the docks to load our supplies."

"And?" she prompted.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ had vanished," Zaalbar finished.

"Without any kind of trace? No leads or witnesses?" The doctor obviously didn't understand Shyriiwook, but he had managed to figure out what Zaalbar had said.

"Nothing. Like some kind of magic trick or something," Mission added.

"Wait, if it was stolen, what makes you two think I had it?"

"There have been reports that it's now helmed by a Jedi," Zaalbar replied.

"More than a few reports, Big Z," Mission broke in, putting her hands on her hips. "The _Hawk_'s been spotted again on Korriban, leaving Telos-"

_Telos…must have given Carth a heart attack._

"-When we heard where it's been ending up and what the Jedi flying it's been doing, we assumed it was you," Mission finished.

"I hate the idea of someone else flying your ship, Katrina," the Twi'lek added. "But at least it's another Jedi, right?"

"It was never my ship, Mission."

The _Hawk _had been Davik's, certainly- until they killed him and stole it. After that it had mostly been Carth's, the only one who really appreciated it- until he found more important things to worry about than a fast ship. It had found a good home with Mission and Zaalbar after that.

Until someone else had started the whole cycle over again and taken the ship for their own purposes.

"So this ship is gone," Dathan began. "But that doesn't explain why you're worried about this Jolee fellow."

"Hey wait, just why are you here anyways?" The Twi'lek had lost none of her spunk. She stared at the doctor as though it wouldn't affect her opinion of him if he was another Jedi in disguise or if he was a Czerka slaver sent to take the planet back over. "I don't think Revan needs any help in the defense department."

She glanced at Katrina. "Right?"

"Mission, never mind," Zaalbar growled quietly, having already figured it out.

"Big Z, what's your hang-up? Geeze, it's just a simple question…" The Twi'lek trailed off as she studied Katrina's expanding stomach.

The Jedi robes and the way they clung to her only made it more obvious despite the fact that her stomach wasn't bigger by much.

"Whoa," she giggled, lapsing back into the fourteen-year-old Katrina remembered. "That's pretty major."

"Jolee?" Katrina snapped, though her hand went self-consciously to her abdomen.

"As my son said, the human comes to our village occasionally to replenish his supplies," Freyyr answered. "His visits, however, became less and less frequent until they had ended altogether."

"Travels to the Shadowlands as proof of a warrior's honor have been suspended since the Czerka uprising," Zaalbar continued. "We needed our people here to help stabilize and rebuild our planet."

"Jolee also made us promise that no one would go down there, even if it seemed like something bad had happened to him," Mission said, "Naturally we completely ignored him."

"I sent a few scouts down to the Shadowlands to make sure he was all right." Zaalbar's tone became sober. "None returned."


	12. Chapter 12

The basket looked a little dusty and unkempt, but other than that fairly harmless from where Katrina stood.

"We're going down about a kilometer or so in _that_?" Dathan said incredulously, gesturing vaguely towards the basket with his assault rifle.

"You're really not one of those 'trial by fire' type people, are you, Doctor?" she murmured, stepping into the basket and jumping a few times to reassure him of its stability.

"Fire is one thing. Rickety baskets on wild planets infested with viper kinrath is quite another."

"Don't look at me, Big Z," Mission replied to the Wookiee, who had muttered something under his breath. "I sure didn't invite him."

Zaalbar moved towards the heavy ropes supporting the basket and began to operate it as they descended towards the Shadowlands.

"And you say you were in the Mandalorian Wars, huh?" Katrina teased. "I bet the fleet didn't take too kindly to you running off and hiding every time something unexpected cropped up."

He wasn't Force-sensitive and she didn't even know him that well, but she was able to glean the meaning of his icy glare quite clearly: _Back off._

The only change she saw at first to the Shadowlands as the basket neared the planet floor was a thicker soup of fog. The bodies of the Wookiees lying a few meters away from the basket were sadly not an unfamiliar sight.

Zaalbar headed over to them.

"They have been dead for some time," he growled.

"The way they're laying I think they were on their way back up. I guess whatever they saw caught them before they could get back to the village," Mission added.

The Force felt as dense as the mists around them. She clawed through it, trying to sense if Jolee was here, if he was in pain.

There was a faint resonance back in the direction of his camp. She pulled out her lightsaber, igniting it and heading back towards his home.

Of all the things in the Shadowlands, the old man's camp had changed the most. For one thing, smoke no longer rose from the exhaust pipes in the roof, and warm light no longer glowed from the small windows.

_And most importantly, Jolee's not here._

"Looks like someone ransacked the place." Mission murmured, glancing inside the darkened home from the wide-open door. Katrina joined her, holding out her lightsaber to illuminate the room.

Jolee's few belongings lay scattered about; some of his furniture toppled over. His lightsaber lay silent and harmless underneath an overturned chair. Katrina bent to retrieve it.

He wasn't here, but she could feel his presence. That nagging feeling (much like the old man himself) told her that he wasn't dead; she just wasn't looking hard enough.

"Katrina!" Zaalbar roared from outside the hut.

"What is it?"

"These tracks," the Wookiee said from where he was bent over, examining the somewhat spongy soil. "They head off towards the lower Shadowlands. I believe someone may have captured the human."

Relief hit her at once, along with more pragmatic thoughts: _Why would anyone want to kidnap Jolee unless they were Sith? And if they were Sith, why wouldn't they just kill him?_

"Whoever they are, they won't have him for long."

The kinrath population had gone down considerably, and Katrina found that they only stopped once or twice to fight off a few before they had reached the decrepit Czerka force field. Vines wrapped around its rusty metal beams, and it looked like it had been there for ages even though she knew better.

A small snub fighter rested just behind the giant wroshyr tree branch that unofficially separated the lower Shadowlands from the upper. Off-hand, Katrina couldn't tell if it was Sith or Republic. There were no marks of affiliation on the fighter's hull.

_Dustil would be able to tell, _she thought, sighing.

"Doesn't look like it's been here long," Dathan murmured.

"It's still warm," Mission pointed out. "Whoever was here is still here." The Twi'lek poked around the storage bins surrounding the ship, returning to stand near them with her hands resting on the hilts of her blades.

"Any tracks, Zaalbar?" Katrina asked.

While she had been reprogrammed as an imaginary scout and infused with all the talents of one, the Shadowlands were foreign territory. _Best to leave the tracking up to the natives._

"Many," the Wookiee answered. "A journey has been repeated from this ship to whatever lies in that direction by several people."

Katrina glanced up where Zaalbar was pointing.

She scoffed. _Figures._

The tracks curled back into the depths of the Shadowlands; near the ritual beast's lair, but more importantly, near the old computer that had protected the Star Map.

The four crept down the trails, following the heavy tracks that had been left by whoever had made repeated visits to the old installation.

Three distinct feelings came over her. She felt proud, like she looked upon something that might take her to fame and fortune. She felt irritated, like something as simple as a missing access code might deny her that fame and fortune.

She felt amused, like she had seen this spectacle performed before by far more talented actors. _Jolee._

"I will ask you one last time, old man. Then it will be time for you to die."

"Time for me to die, eh? Who, might I ask, made you ruler of the galaxy, hmm?"

Katrina recognized the hum of lightsabers and the sound of Jolee's mocking voice. She motioned for the others to fall back, leaning down between the immense tree roots and watching carefully.

Jolee Bindo didn't look alarmed in the slightest, despite the fact that sweat poured down his bald head and his hands were bound behind his back. He knelt in the center of the small nook before the Star Map console, watching his captors with a raised eyebrow.

One Sith with his red blade extended and trembling at his side circled around Jolee, switching directions with every angry curl of his lip.

Another, a woman, stood near the computer, a hand on her hip and her own lightsaber in her other hand.

"I told you before, my love, this senile fool knows nothing. Our information must have been wrong. He could not have been a member of the Jedi Council."

"I may be a senile old fool, lass," Jolee chuckled. "But at least I'm no Sith."

The retort earned the old Jedi a backhanded slap from the man circling around him.

She tried to keep herself flush against the tree root, pulling her extended weapon in closer. Dathan gently pushed it away from where it had come dangerously close to his nose.

"We know the Dark Lord Revan accessed this computer and took the Star Map. We know that you helped. We know that the Star Maps led to the location of the Star Forge-"

"In case you haven't been watching the newsvids, son, the Star Forge was destroyed about four years ago," Jolee replied.

The Sith clenched his jaw, stopping his pacing and stepping towards Jolee.

"For the final time, Jedi, how do we access this installation?"

Jolee sighed dramatically, moving his jaw around like the Sith's strike had made it numb.

"Listen, kid, let me tell you a little-"

"If you dare to even think the word 'story', old man," the Sith said darkly, shoving his lightsaber under Jolee's neck. "I will slice you straight down the middle."

"Fair enough. Let me enlighten you both on some small points I've been trying to make ever since we started this extended dinner party. Point number one: Revan did indeed install, program, and access this console. Point number two: The ever-prepared Sith Lord designed this console so that it could only be accessed once, and only by one person. Point number three," The old Jedi finished, leaning forward. "That one person was _Revan herself._"

This time the reward for his words was a jolt of lightning straight to the chest, which sent Jolee backwards into the dirt, groaning loudly.

"This is useless," the woman muttered under her breath.

"This was your idea, Ria," the man shot back. "Your grand plan for resurrecting the Sith war effort, so don't blame me for it not working out."

"Perhaps, Gudo, if you had not been so focused on beating inane stories and senseless Jedi axioms out of this old man, we might have succeeded by now."

"Then let us end it," the Sith hissed, turning back towards Jolee and raising his lightsaber.

Katrina immediately rose from her hiding place, stepping out from between the roots. The Sith woman reacted instantly, sending a flurry of lightning her way which Katrina absorbed easily with her lightsaber. The Sith man paused where he stood over Jolee, staring in astonishment at her.

"This is all very flattering, but I really don't deserve it," she murmured.

Mission, Zaalbar and Dathan filed in behind her, creating a circle around the two Sith.

"More Jedi scum? Just how many have you been hiding here, old fool?" The man kicked Jolee savagely in the stomach as though he were to blame. "No matter. We'll soon send all of you to wallow in that pitiful Force wading pool you Jedi call home."

The Sith stepped towards her, lashing out suddenly towards Zaalbar, who roared and fended him off.

"Just what hole did you crawl out of, Jedi?" he taunted. "I admit that we failed to sense your presence in this accursed place."

"Gudo," the woman began nervously, stepping towards them with her saber held protectively in front of her. "Do not play games with this one. I sense something…strange about her."

Katrina lunged forward, slamming her blade up against the man's. He whirled around, parrying her attack and trying to force her into a corner.

Mission and Zaalbar took the woman. Dathan, after firing a few easily deflected shots, rushed to Jolee's side and unbound him.

She tossed him his lightsaber and the Sith paused for a moment, weighing the options of defeating five people, two of them very angry Jedi.

"See, this is something like the way I did it, except I didn't go so far as tying Jolee up when he began to irritate me," Katrina added, stepping backwards towards the console.

The Sith man glared at her, trying not to let his confusion show on his face and failing miserably.

She smiled blithely, pressing a few buttons on the computer. The ancient image of the Rakatan flickered back to life.

"Third access by the human Revan. This installation has performed all tasks within its program parameters. Shutting down." Just as quickly, the holo-projection died and the computer fell silent again.

"You…you're…" the Sith woman sputtered, weakly batting off Mission's attack.

"Very angry that you tried to kill my friend here," Katrina finished.

The Sith man growled, slashing angrily down over her head. The instinct to leap over him and perform her usual acrobatics was strong, but Katrina fought it and instead ducked, shooting her foot out and making him stumble.

"Do not fear, my love. We will bring so much more to the Sith cause when we kill this traitor." He lunged towards where Dathan and Jolee stood.

The old Jedi very calmly and methodically brought his weapon down on the Sith's chest.

The man gasped for a moment, looking down in shock at the wide gaping wound that went from shoulder to hip. Then he dropped his lightsaber, falling lifelessly to the ground.

The Sith woman let out an unintelligible wail, beginning a frenzy of wild swings towards Mission and Zaalbar.

Her passionate inaccuracy, along with Bacca's blade, made it fairly easy for the Wookiee and the Twi'lek to kill her. She too fell to the ground, one hand stretched out towards where the man lay as if in a last effort to reach him.

Katrina breathed heavily, walking over to where Jolee and Dathan stood. "Is it wrong that I'm starting to enjoy doing that to people?"

Jolee smirked. "Only if it's wrong that I enjoyed dispatching that miserable piece of work." The old Jedi sighed, putting away his lightsaber and rubbing his wrists, looking from one Sith to the other.

"Poor Ria and Gudo. They were in love, but instead of one saving the other from herself, Gudo chose to blindly follow her down the same path."

"You knew them?" Dathan murmured, coming closer.

"Heh…If so I'm a poor acquaintance, aren't I?"

Katrina saw the wry smile come over the old man's face and exchanged glances with Mission and Zaalbar. _Poor Doctor. He hasn't experienced Jolee Bindo yet._

"When two Sith kidnap you out of your own home and spend a week or so torturing you and dragging you from one damned contraption to another, you get to know them reasonably well."

"My father will be glad to know you are alive," Zaalbar growled.

Jolee brushed a few pieces of dirt off his shoulders and tattered clothing. "I'm rather glad to know I'm alive myself."

"What were they trying to beat out of you anyways?" Mission added, picking a few credits off the dead Sith's body.

"Ria and Gudo thought to make a name for themselves among the ever-rising Sith ranks. And they thought to do it by giving them back their old presence in the galaxy, the kind Malak used to have," Jolee continued. "They had some kind of fool notion that these various installations carried the plans for the Star Forge, and that they might somehow rebuild it."

Katrina scoffed. "The Star Forge took years to build, even with an entire civilization working on it."

Jolee shrugged. "Such is the optimism of young love."

Dathan reached into his pack, pulling out a few medical tools and coming towards the old Jedi. Jolee batted his hands away.

"And just what do you think you're doing, young man?" he murmured, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's all right, I'm a doctor. Are you hurt?"

"You'll find I'm quite capable of healing myself. But standing around here with mostly my own sweat for warmth isn't going to do any of us much good. Come, let's get back to my camp."

The Jedi breezed past the doctor, heading back towards his home.

Dathan stood for a moment, sighing in frustration. Katrina hung back from the others, waiting for the doctor to follow.

"I'm somewhat useless among Jedi, aren't I?" he muttered.

Though it felt somewhat surreal to pity a healthy young man when there were two dead Sith lying before her, Katrina patted his shoulder all the same, giving him a smile.

"Don't feel bad. We're all pretty useless to Jolee."

* * *

"Where do you suppose this goes?" Mission whispered at her side, holding a mangled teapot that had been flung to the floor of Jolee's home along with the rest of his possessions.

"I doubt it matters."

It especially wouldn't matter how disarrayed or orderly Jolee's camp was if he was going to leave the planet with them, but Katrina decided it was easier not to argue with him. So she and the others obediently continued to clean up the mess the Sith had left his home.

"…Of course I sensed them, boy! I don't carry this lightsaber because all the young hip kids are doing it."

"But if you sensed them," Dathan continued doggedly, leaning forward in his chair. "How did they manage to capture you?"

_The old man's having a real field day with this one_, Katrina thought, smirking as she picked up some more of Jolee's belongings and replaced them where they belonged around his hut.

"Heh, well if you noticed, there happened to be two of them, and one of me," Jolee added. "So I sat myself down very calmly in my chair, folded my arms, and waited for the end. I thought my number was up, that it was time for this old Jedi to finally fade away into whatever the Force had waiting for me-"

"Maybe if you hadn't stopped to wait for it, it might not have come," Katrina broke in.

Jolee cast an irritated glance towards her.

"Don't mind that one," he murmured to Dathan, waving a dismissive hand towards her. "Can't abide the idea that there's someone around who actually listens to my stories."

"Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, Ria and Gudo, after lengthy debate over my Force stasis-frozen body, decided that I might be useful in deciphering that obstinate machine over in the lower Shadowlands. They hauled me off to that tanker of theirs and proceeded to lightning bolt me and then shove my face into that console, in that order and repeated about a dozen times." He picked up the last overturned chair.

"There now," the old Jedi murmured, wiping his hands together in satisfaction. "Nothing some good old-fashioned elbow grease can't fix."

"They killed your scouts before I had a chance to warn them, Zaalbar," he added in a sober tone. "For that I'm sorry."

The Wookiee nodded in acknowledgment, bent over somewhat uncomfortably in the snug structure.

"So," Jolee continued, sitting down in his chair with a contended grunt. "Not that I'm not grateful to you for saving my wrinkled old butt back there or anything, but what brings you back down to this foggy death-trap?"

"I hope you're not going to ask me to hide you," he murmured softly. "Because I've failed at it with others and I won't allow you to make the same mistake."

Despite the roaring fire in the hut, Katrina felt goosebumps on her arms. "Others?"

Jolee nodded. "I fled far before the Council would admit anything was amiss. It angered some of them, but I suppose they learned too late that occasionally my advice is pretty sound. Despite their resentment towards me, it didn't stop them from seeking me out as shelter."

_The fault was mine alone, Master Jolee. _She sensed his death even before she recognized the sound of his gravelly tenor in her head.

Jolee closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head as if in reverence or guilt.

"I might have protected you, Vandar," he murmured.

_My death was part of my destiny, _the Jedi Master replied._ The Force willed it, and I am at peace with that will. _

Jolee frowned, obviously thinking that his actions might have changed things despite what the Force had to say about it.

"Those two ambushed him on an earlier landing when they were seeking the Star Map. I arrived too late to help," he finished quietly.

As she knew from experience, there was nothing to say. Instead, Katrina gripped the old Jedi's hand for a moment.

Jolee finally opened his eyes again, sighing resolutely. She released his hand.

"Well," he finally said, laughing softly. "Now that you know the forbidden territory, you can tell me what you're really here for."

"Dustil and I were contacted by a dying Bothan on the planet of Chael-"

Jolee nodded. "Sure, Chael. They make a good armchair or two."

"The Bothans had been gathering information for us on high-profile Sith. They were attacked and whatever Sith were on the planet killed two of them and took two others hostage, along with the information."

Jolee snorted. "The other two are dead as well, unless they had something to barter. These Sith aren't cut from the same crystals as Malak's were- they waste no time. They would have killed me in an instant if they hadn't been so sure I could tell them how to operate that computer."

"They attacked me and Dustil next and broke his arm pretty good. I left him there to recover and gather more information on them."

"Might be a nice opportunity for him to complete his training."

_I could have used you months ago, old man, _Katrina thought, rolling her eyes.

"I need you to come back to Chael with me and help get that information back."

"So you want me to join a ragtag group of volunteers trying to stop the Sith? Disobey the Council's orders about staying in hiding and travel openly with other Jedi? Risk life and limb when it would be safer to hide under a rock- or, in this instance, some very tall trees- and wait it out?" Jolee said in mock astonishment.

Katrina nodded. The old Jedi gave her a sly smile.

"Become another Jedi to follow Revan on some idealistic crusade, eh? Be happy to."

"Even though," Jolee added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head, studying her. "While it's a reasonable request, it's not entirely understandable. Unless there's a large scale army forming there, which I doubt, I'm surprised you and the kid need help at all."

Dathan started to open his mouth but she silenced him with a look. Zaalbar and Mission averted their eyes like she was about to do something incredibly embarrassing.

Jolee suddenly burst out laughing, pushing himself up from the chair and taking a few steps around the room, holding his side as if it hurt.

"Well, I'll be a Wookiee's uncle," he managed to get out between chuckles. "I feel like I should send old Carth some cigars."

_I hope you appreciate everything I'm going through for you, _Katrina thought, folding her arms protectively in front of her and glaring down at her stomach.

"Who would have thought it?" Jolee goaded, ignoring her murderous gaze. "Revan, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Savior of the Republic; barefoot and pregnant in my kitchen." He clapped his hands together in delight.

"Never thought I'd see the day-"

"You won't," Katrina said abruptly.

Jolee smirked.

"Wounded your pride, have I? You could do with a few jabs in that department. But boy, what wouldn't I give for a holovid of Carth's face when you tell him-"

Muttering something along the lines of 'I hate you, old man', Katrina exited the hut, retreating to pout outside.

_I am not pouting, _she told herself, even as the verb was the first one to come to mind.


	13. Chapter 13

_The Codes? No, that was the first thing you tried, remember?_

"The meat a little tough, Dustil?"

_It's got to be something personal. Maybe the names of his children or grandchildren?_

"Dustil?"

He glanced up suddenly at hearing his name. Jaron Vin sat at the other end of the table, watching him with an amused expression on his face.

"Oh no, Jaron, the food's fine. Just have a few things on my mind is all."

Vin nodded as if he understood.

_You think about this anymore, Onasi, and your brain might turn into lubellian fungus._

Dustil sat up, inching closer to the table and poking at the meal in front of him; forking some of it into his mouth even though he didn't have much of an appetite.

It was pretty hard to pretend to like his host's barely palatable cooking when he was frustrated over inaccessible archives.

It was harder yet to concentrate on said archives when said host's rather attractive daughter was sitting a few centimeters away from him.

"I would introduce you to my daughter, Dustil, but she tells me you've already met," Vin added between bites.

"Well, it's nice to meet you again anyways, Tova," he murmured, flashing her a smile.

"Likewise, even though I still have no idea why you're here," Tova replied evenly.

"Dustil works for the city," his host mumbled, somehow managing to chew the rock-hard meat. "He's doing some high-profile work that requires him to stay hidden."

Tova put her utensils down, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. "What kind of work?"

"I-"

"Tova," his host interrupted, silencing Dustil. "If the young man is on a classified mission of some sort, it's not your place to question him, or to try and ferret out his agendas for your own curiosity." Vin said severely, waving a threatening fork towards his daughter.

"Of course, Father," Tova replied, keeping her eyes on Dustil.

He didn't much like the look she was giving him, although he knew that she wasn't Force-sensitive and no matter how hard she stared, she wasn't going to recognize him for a Jedi.

"You probably won't see much of each other," Vin continued. "Tova here is studying at the Mikaelean University. She's about to graduate and head off to Coruscant to become a journalist."

"Hope you're not thinking of doing some story on me," Dustil murmured, trying to smile again at her.

This time she actually returned it.

"Only if I was going to do an expose on overkill in local law enforcement."

"Tova…" his host began warningly.

"I just wonder why such an illustrious name is doing some secret work for Mikael, of all places."

Dustil glanced up, meeting the gaze of her steely grey eyes.

"I don't know about you," he laughed nervously. "But I haven't ever met anyone else named Dustil-"

"-Onasi? Maybe not, but a lot of people know of Carth Onasi, the Admiral of the Republic Fleet."

The girl had done her homework, apparently.

_We're going to have to talk about changing our name when I get home, Father, _Dustil thought, frowning.

"That's it! That's where I've heard your name before!" his host exclaimed, momentarily distracted by the realization.

"You're related to him, aren't you?" Tova said eagerly, leaning over the table towards him. "I've seen him on the newsvids…you look too much like him not to be related-"

Attractive or not, she was damned irritating. Dustil glared at her.

"If you want a holoprint, you'll have to write to him like all the other women."

"What kind of starry-eyed spacer do you take me for?" his host's daughter shot back. "All I'm wondering is why a close relative of a famous hero is on unimportant little Chael investigating for our local government."

"The Mayor hand-picked him, Tova. I'm sure he has impressive credentials," Vin finally murmured.

"I don't doubt it. But what, exactly, are you investigating?" his host's daughter pressed, ignoring her father's words.

This time it was Dustil's turn to smirk. _Beat this, sister._ "The effects of annoying journalists on important government investigations."

Vin covered up a snicker with his napkin.

Tova glared at both of them for a moment like they had been plotting it the whole dinner.

"You spend an awful lot of time in my great-grandfather's archives-"

"Tova, that's _enough,_" his host said roughly.

"It has something to do with Grandfather Akiva, doesn't it-"

Vin dropped his utensils noisily onto the metal table.

"I _said_…" 'Said' was enunciated with such venom, the kind of snarl Dustil had only heard out of his host once before: _Nothing is worth my family's safety_.

Vin sighed, picking up his fork again, his hand shaking slightly.

"Enough."

* * *

_ERROR: ENTER ACCESS CODE_

For a second, Dustil considered pulling out his blaster and shooting the console squarely in the middle of the word "access".

_Momentary gratification. And then where would you be?_

He was so tired that he wasn't sure which Master's words they had been. Right now it sounded like either Juhani with a cold or Revan having just inhaled some helium.

_But oh, _he thought dryly, _what a moment it would be._

The three small windows at the top of the walls that made up Akiva Vin's archives cast long columns of light across the room like it was a forgotten tomb.

_Not too far off the mark_. Dustil leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes and cracking his neck.

He had torn through every datapad and book in the room. Then he had gone through them again very methodically, dissecting every word. Most were records that didn't pertain to anything of a Jedi nature: family albums, receipts, travel logs.

Akiva had been a well-traveled Jedi even in the short time he was active. He had visited most of the major core worlds, as well as a sizable portion of the Outer Rim. What he might have done on those planets, however, was locked somewhere within those four words that blinked maddeningly up at him from the console's screen:

_ERROR: ENTER ACCESS CODE_

Dustil sat up. He typed in 'Akiva Vin'.

_ERROR: INVALID CODE_

He typed in 'Jedi Knight'.

_ERROR: INVALID CODE_

He typed in 'damned piece of bantha spit'.

_ERROR: INVALID CODE_

Dustil let out an aggravated growl and pushed himself away from the console, folding his arms in front of him.

The codes weren't related to Akiva's family. They weren't anything that could be found in this room. They were somehow related to that holo-projection left in the dead Jedi's meditation grove, and could only be discovered by a user of the Force.

He considered going to sleep and giving it another stab in the morning.

_But I'm so damn close, I can feel it._ Dustil closed his eyes, trying to relax and reach out with the Force once again.

_Think…the recording in the grove was activated by reciting the Codes._

Neither of the Codes, taken in any kind of alternating or jumbled order, had worked.

_Akiva said the important questions were what purpose the Sith and Jedi serve, why they fight each other, what they desire._

Using both terms and any variations or teachings on them hadn't worked either, and Dustil knew a hell of a lot about both sides.

_So we're talking ancient history, not Akiva's history, but the ancient history of the Sith and the Jedi._

Unfortunately, neither Sith nor Jedi had ever sat down and given him classroom lectures on their histories. He had found many differences from the ways of the Academy upon beginning Jedi training, but to his surprise there had been many similarities as well.

He had tried to access the Jedi archives many times, and each time he had only been given what he was specifically looking for or told that he 'wasn't ready to delve into such knowledge without proper training'.

_And Revan never thought my training required spending a few hours in the Jedi Library_, he thought with a smirk.

Master Uthar had made them all memorize the Code of course, but their training had always been focused on being aware, on giving into their emotions, on letting the heart rule instead of the brain.

_And naturally, learning history wasn't going to make our emotions more powerful or improve our chances for superiority._

Dustil's eyes opened for a moment.

Even now, after everything he had seen and done, everything he had tried to forget: he still knew more about the Sith than about the Jedi.

_That's going to change_, he told himself firmly. _As soon as I get into these archives._

Dustil closed his eyes, clenching his jaw in determination.

_Ancient history…as far as you know, the Jedi have never been anything other than what they are. If the answers are somewhere in Jedi history…_

Well, he would deal with that if he came to it.

_Sith, on the other hand- technically these assassins aren't even true Sith. The true Sith, they were called something else-_

"Getting anywhere?"

A flurry of actions took over his body- some voluntary, some not. The opening of his eyes and the slight turning of his head to glance behind him were voluntary.

The sudden beating of his heart and his hand within his shirt, clenched around his lightsaber, were not.

Tova Vin stood in the doorway, her blond hair tied back and a long robe wrapped around her.

Dustil sighed, glaring at her and turning back to the computer, carefully pulling his tensed fingers off of his hidden weapon.

"You shouldn't be in here," he muttered.

"Why? Am I breaking the great government agent's concentration?"

_Yes, in fact, you are. _Dustil grasped for his train of thought; having derailed and exploded the moment his host's daughter had entered the room.

"Your father doesn't want you in here."

"My father doesn't want me to go to Coruscant or investigate anything other than moisture farming, but I'm still going to."

Tova took a few hesitant steps into the room, glancing at datapads and replacing them on the shelves near the door.

"I've only glimpsed in here a few times. I once got as far as touching that console you're sitting at before I got caught."

"Ever think there's a reason for that?"

"If there are, they aren't good ones." She ran her fingers over the glass case holding Akiva's lightsaber, opening it and picking up the weapon gingerly.

"Don't touch that," Dustil warned, standing up.

"Why?" Tova murmured, her tone indicating that any reason he could give wouldn't be good enough either. She turned the lightsaber up and down, her fingers dangerously grazing the power-on switch.

"Only Force-sensitives can use those without killing themselves," he added, snatching it out of her hands and replacing it in the glass case.

Tova smirked, sauntering past him.

"So this has something to do with the Force and Grandfather Akiva's career as a Jedi."

Dustil's hand went to his forehead. _You stupid nerf-herder._

"Father used to tell me stories of Grandfather Akiva when I was little. For the last couple years, however, he hasn't even mentioned his name," she glanced over her shoulder at Dustil. "And I want to know why."

He could see all kinds of things going wrong with the situation he was currently in. And all of them involved Jaron Vin coming after him with a blaster rifle.

"I'm not here to enlighten you on your family history."

Tova continued walking around the room, stopping in front of the computer console.

"'Enter access code'…what's this?" Her eyes lit up in realization. "These are my great-grandfather's archives, aren't they?"

Dustil rushed forward, elbowing her out of the way and standing in front of the screen, blocking her view.

"Your father is my host, and I'm going to respect his wishes. Not to put too fine a point on it, but get out."

His host's daughter folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Or what?"

"I'll tell your father you're here."

"You're going to go _tattle _on me? Just how old are you, Mister Onasi, twelve?"

He considered how much fun it might be to see the look on her face when he put her in Force stasis and sat right back down at the computer console.

_Momentary gratification, Dustil._

"'Error…invalid code'…doesn't look like you're having much luck," Tova murmured.

"Listen, sister-"

"How about we make a deal? I'll help you open my grandfather's archives if you let me read them with you."

Dustil scoffed. "Your father will give me any information I need. That's an infinitely better arrangement than getting it from you in the middle of the night."

"My father doesn't know anymore than what Grandfather Akiva told him. He pretends this Jedi Civil War isn't happening. I, on the other hand, know the value of research-"

"I have the entire local government at my disposal. I don't need your help."

Even as he said the words- _"I don't need your help."-_He remembered how it felt to hear them: like he was useless and no better than the Sith way of life he had abandoned.

If Tova was upset, she didn't show it.

"Well, I need yours," she replied quietly, stepping closer to him. "Please, let me see my grandfather's archives. My father will never know, I promise you."

He came incredibly close to staring her in the eye and saying 'You want to leave'. But that wouldn't work for three reasons.

One, it only worked on the weak-minded. Two, when it didn't work, she would research and figure him for a Jedi.

Three, he liked staring into her eyes a little too much for comfort.

_True Sith…_ This voice wasn't his own or either Master, but that chuckling, ethereal murmur he had heard in the meditation grove; the voice of Akiva Vin._ They were called something else…_

Dustil rushed over to the console, frantically trying to type in the word before he forgot it.

_Sith'ari_.

For the first time, the console didn't immediately reply with 'error' or 'invalid' or 'code'. It hummed loudly for a few seconds, like his fresh attempt had surprised it and it was hurrying to catch up.

Finally the screen flashed. A list of dated files appeared.

Dustil's weary arms lifted into the air, renewed with his accomplishment.

"Yes!"

A hand gently moved one of his pumped fists out of her face. He had completely forgotten about her in the heat of the moment.

"I might not have been allowed to try myself, but I'm pretty sure that Grandfather Akiva made sure only users of the Force could access his archives."

"Did it look like I just used the Force?" he shot back, his nervousness making him louder than he intended to be.

Tova Vin set her jaw determinedly at him.

"Whether you did or not, there are definitely some things you aren't telling my father."

He was surprised at how easy it was to read some people's thoughts even without the Force. This girl's meaning was clear: _I can make life very difficult for you._

Dustil sighed, lowering his arms and glancing up at her.

_You're getting in way over your head, Onasi._

"I guess I'll be needing your help after all."

* * *

_"Dustil?" He rolled over in bed, recognizing his mother's voice, though muffled and calling from a few rooms away._

_"Dus-til," she laughed, elongating his name and now standing in his doorway._

_He cracked one heavy eyelid open, frowning before curling back up under the covers._

_"Mom, let me sleep."_

_"Even with a war on, you still have to go to school."_

_She sounded much more subdued as she said 'war'. 'War' meant a thousand things: nervous people moving about the city, classmates pulled out into the hallway to be told about their fathers or mothers or brothers or sisters, his mother's distant gaze whenever she looked up at the sky._

_Morgana stood over him with a smirk on her face, reaching down to ruffle his hair._

"Wake up, son."

Dustil's eyes fluttered open, his cheek sticking painfully to the surface of the console before letting go.

Jaron Vin patted him on the back, chuckling.

"Burning the midnight oil, eh? Nice to see a dedicated young man in today's galaxy."

He returned his host's laughter groggily, trying to rub out the imprint of the control panel in his skin.

"Looks like you've gotten somewhere," Vin said, leaning over him to look at the list of unopened files.

"Uh, yeah," Dustil lied, stretching. "Turns out Akiva left the access codes written down in one of his datapads."

"Is that right?" Vin smiled. "I suppose even the Jedi are prone to absent-mindedness. Well, our luck that he did then. I don't happen to know any users of the Force that might have helped us otherwise."

Dustil nodded weakly, glancing around the room.

Tova Vin was nowhere to be found. He supposed she had snuck out after he fell asleep, which had happened so quickly that if he had managed to open any of the files to read them, he didn't remember what they had said.

"I received a message from the Mayor this morning, Dustil," Vin murmured. "His Eminence requests a meeting with you sometime today."

He felt the way the sun was heavy on his cheeks and realized it was approaching early afternoon.

"I think I'd better go straight over to the city center then. Thanks, Jaron."

Mikael went about its daily business all around him; vendors and citizens paying no attention to him. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't have guessed there were Sith massing somewhere to the north.

_And depending on their numbers, they could tear through this city like they were slaughtering tachs._

The city center was subdued, however; the guard directed him up to Phineas's office almost mournfully. Dustil noted an increase in the number of security officers and battle droids. Apparently the notion that the Sith might have been interested in Revan's brother had crossed the mind of the man himself as well.

_Hurry up. I haven't got all day._

The familiar voice of Revan's brother startled him as the lift reached the appropriate floor, and Dustil hurried down the hallway to his office.

"I expected you sometime this morning," Phineas said harshly from where he stood near the large windows overlooking the city.

"My host isn't the best messenger," Dustil replied evenly, walking towards him.

"Revan sent me an update."

Out of respect to his host and concern for his safety, he and Revan had decided to relay messages through Phineas.

"She and Dathan reached Kashyyyk and found…Jolee?" Her brother stumbled awkwardly over the name.

Dustil nodded in acknowledgement. Master Jolee was alive; that was good news in itself. That he was going to help was better news yet.

Phineas shrugged, shaking his head in confusion.

"How's your arm?"

Dustil glanced down at the metal structure which was somewhat dented and abused by now. His arm no longer ached consistently, and the swelling had gone down. He lifted his arm and moved it around in a complete circle to demonstrate.

Phineas nodded. "Good. Then maybe you'll be up for breaking my sister's rules."

"What?"

"I certainly can't and won't get you near the mine we suspect they're holed up in. Chael's military isn't very large but we've looked into sending ground troops in or making an aerial assault anyways-"

"Your troops are no match for Sith assassins."

Seeing the hard, impatient look in the politican's eyes, Dustil decided to shut up.

"However, without knowing how many there are or what kinds of weapons they might have, it's just too risky."

"Enter the Jedi," Phineas continued, crossing to his desk and picking up a datapad. "We've found another mine whose physical structure and natural resources almost completely mirror those in the defunct one they might be massing in. If you think you're ready, I can arrange a trip out to it so you can get an idea of what they might have at their disposal."

"Not another excursion," Dustil groaned.

"No, we've suspended almost all excursions for the time being, except those that are miles away from the defunct mine," Phineas sighed. "We don't want to alarm the public, but at the same time we want to keep them safe."

"When can I go?"

Revan's brother raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sure you can handle this? I know my sister, and she's pretty quick on the draw with that lightsaber of hers. She'll kill me if I let anything happen to you, and she'll do worse if she knows I let you go back out there pretty much on your own."

"I kind of already did," Dustil replied sheepishly, rubbing his neck and avoiding Phineas's gaze.

The politician laughed softly.

"I like you, kid. We might become friends someday if you ever stop hating me." He handed Dustil the datapad.

"One of our civil engineers and an assault droid or two will meet you at the north gates tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

_"Your homework's done, right?" _

_Dustil nodded, reaching to scratch a scab on his elbow. __"It's always done."_

_Morgana rolled her eyes. __He watched his mother move around their home, picking up various items of his datapads, some of which contained old messages from his father. Her fingers brushed over them carefully before tossing them into a pile with the others. _

_He was suddenly struck with the reminder that he loved his mother. It felt strange to suddenly realize something that was unconditional and involuntary, and he felt like a little kid again instead of the almost-fourteen he was. He fought off the urge to throw his arms around her, and instead concentrated on speeders, swoop-racing- _

_The itch wouldn't go away, and he scratched harder._

_"You're going to be late if you don't get going, Dustil," his mother murmured somewhat distractedly._

_He knew she was right, that he had a full day of classes waiting for him and detention added onto it if he wasn't there within fifteen minutes or so._

_His feet refused to move. No, that wasn't it; it was more that he felt like he couldn't leave, like he shouldn't leave._

_"Dustil?" Morgana said, putting her hands on her hips; half exasperated and half wondering why he was still standing in the doorway._

_Ignoring any thoughts of how he was a baby or how he would make fun of himself later for it, Dustil hugged his mother._

_She seemed surprised at first, then returned his embrace, smiling against his forehead._

_"I love you too, Dustil," she laughed softly. "Now get your butt to school." He grinned at her and hurried out the door._

_It just happened to be one of those days when he got those funny feelings. Feelings that sometimes gave him weird dreams or made him act differently around people; sometimes because he felt like he knew what would happen to them._

_Today he felt like something big was going to happen. _

Maybe Father's coming home_. Dustil tried to swallow his excitement at the thought. Father was wrong for going back to the Fleet, Father was wrong for staying away so often-_

_Even as he knew he was supposed to be angry, was usually angry at his father for these things, he still couldn't help feeling excited that he might have figured it out, that the big happening might be another homecoming for Captain Carth Onasi, that their house would be full again and his mother would laugh and smile and his father would grin and tell him how much he was growing up-_

_He'd scratched too hard. The scab now dangled from his bleeding elbow. _

"Morning, son." Dustil spotted the source of the greeting: A burly engineer who looked completely out of his element in his official blue uniform. He stood by the city gates, flanked by a pair of assault droids.

"Engineer Cham, at your service, Master Jedi," Cham said, extending a hand towards Dustil.

Dustil shook it. "Just Dustil's fine."

Cham nodded, glancing down at a datapad in his hand.

"Well Dustil, the Mayor's charged me with taking you out to DB147. The 'D' being defunct, the 'B' being bronze, and the '147' meaning that it's the one-hundred and forty-seventh mine in its particular mountain range."

"This one isn't in use either?"

The engineer shook his head. "Dried up a very long time ago. And also like DB59, the mine that's currently under surveillance where we think these Sith attackers might be, it was once rich in bronze and chromite."

"Chromite?"

The engineer chuckled. "Bluish-white ore. Not worth particularly much, but the planet's chock full of it. I guarantee you some of it is in every building in this city."

Cham headed towards the city gates, letting the security guard scan his datapad.

To Dustil's surprise, the path the engineer continued down was intentionally cleared and marked with small energy fields along either side of it, like miniature versions of the gigantic ones on Telos.

"What's this path for?"

"Used to be for the miners on their way to work. There are paths like this leading to every mine on Chael."

"Why maintain a path for a defunct mine?"

"Most defunct mines are in such bad shape- structurally unsound, beat-up, antiquated and the like- that we close up these paths and leave them to rot. A few, like DB147, are still in reasonably good shape. We use them to test equipment for new mining operations that we don't want to risk damaging valuable ore with. Occasionally excursions will make special trips out here. A few Chaelean sentimentalists might even hold a wedding in one of them." Cham shrugged.

"Or, like us, we might use them to determine possible scenarios for situations we don't know enough about."

Although on earlier trips it had seemed to Dustil that the wilds never ended, that the planet was a continuous circle of trees and out-of-control underbrush, the path led them through the forests in half the time it had taken him and Revan to wander a few kilometers to the site of the Bothans' ambush.

The end of the forest and the path came abruptly, like the trees had run into the mountains and decided to stop growing.

"Here she is," Cham murmured, pausing to give the defunct mine a calculating once-over. "What a bunch of Sith might want with a mine beats the hell out of me."

_Oh, I could think of a few things._

He had been preparing himself for flashbacks and memories and clenched fists, but DB147 was nothing like the mines on Anelli. For starters, a lot of the scaffolding was on the _outside_ of the mine, climbing up like a spidery maze on the side of the mountain.

_Scaffolding on the outside…makes it easy for snipers or marksmen. But Sith aren't generally known for their talents with blasters._ The only reason he was any good at firing one was because he had had a few years before entering the Sith Academy to practice.

Old grudges threatened to push their way into his thoughts. He had been only fifteen or sixteen, he shouldn't have been holding a blaster at all-

_It wasn't his fault. You chose blasters and vibroblades; you chose the Academy. _Dustil sighed, following Cham into the darkened mine.

The assault droids walked in front of them, built-in beams on their mechanical heads lighting the way. Chaelean mines weren't large, cavernous affairs with stairs and bottomless pits. Rather they were deep and winding, paths leading off through the mountain, breaking off every now and then to unknown destinations.

They reminded him on the shyrack caves on Korriban. _It would be easy for any number of Sith to hide here. And who knows where these hundreds of paths end? They might let out on the other side of the mountain, where they could be hiding a ship._

Most of the features of the mines were defensive rather than offensive, meaning that the Sith weren't plotting a large scale assault against the city anytime soon.

"What's this?" Dustil asked, stopping in front of a large, dusty computer console, big enough to make up the controls in the cockpit of the _Jedi Chaser_.

"That would be a deactivated Hyperspace Communications workstation."

"What does a mine need to communicate with ships traveling through hyperspace for?"

Cham laughed, leaning back against the old machine.

"Ironically enough, this idea was first started by illegal harvesting crews who set up operations in defunct mines while they cut down neighboring forests. They installed the workstations so that they could communicate with their ships, which might have been orbiting the planet to avoid being caught making unauthorized landings in the wilds. As local security forces cracked down on harvesting, officials decided the communication consoles weren't such a bad idea. It would allow individual mines to communicate directly with potential importers or exporters for goods or services, eliminating a lot of the legwork involved with port authority."

"Are all mines equipped with these?"

The engineer nodded. "Every one, including our infamous DB59."

_The ability to receive and send unmonitored messages through hyperspace- that's definitely handy for a group of Sith assassins who could be taking their orders from elsewhere._

Thinking back to it, he had noticed a large communications dish on the outside of the mine resembling the eradictors that lined the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. _That would also give them the ability to scramble incoming data so no one could trace where a message was coming from._

_It involves communicating over hyperspace with someplace else. They're following orders._

"Master Jedi," Cham said hesitantly, lapsing back into formality as he kicked a few stones around. "I suppose you're not allowed to tell me or anything, but would you happen to have an idea of just what these Sith might be planning? I, uh…I have a family, Master Jedi, and if there's anything they're not telling us-"

"They're not after civilians, Cham." Dustil bit his tongue on the rest of it: that if civilians happened to be in the way of what they _were_ after, they wouldn't hesitate to kill them, family and all.

He also didn't add what he knew might reassure the engineer, who watched him cautiously as he began to head back out of the cave.

He couldn't say "You have nothing to worry about; we're going to take care of them."

Because Dustil knew that if they didn't manage to take care of them, Cham and plenty of other Chaeleans would have quite a bit to worry about.

"_Find out why they're here, how long they've been here, what they're planning, and how many, _exactly _how many_ _there are."_

Her voice sounded more annoyed than he remembered her sounding when she had given him instructions before leaving Chael. Maybe that was because he hadn't answered any of her questions yet.

Dustil groaned inwardly, thinking of the long list of archives he had waiting for him. The elation from getting them open had worn off fast.

He was going to have to do some reading. A _lot_ of reading.

* * *

Akiva Vin's private room of archives was much as he had left it: dusty, cluttered, and dim.

Except, of course, for Tova Vin, sitting in the chair before the console with her knees drawn up to her chin, studying the screen intently.

For a second he was ready to throw her out, and then he remembered his drowsy compliance the night before.

_Force, what else was I supposed to do? I was exhausted and she was badgering in my ear and making vague assumptions about me being a Jedi and threatening to tell her father…_

He could just see himself explaining this one to Revan. And then he could see his Master listening very calmly, and smacking him upside the head.

"Where's your father?" Dustil finally murmured.

"Working. He's an accountant for the Bank of the Republic. He didn't exactly inherit much from Grandfather Akiva in the adventurous spirit department."

"Not like you, you mean."

His host's daughter turned slightly in the chair, looking him up and down. "Why is it every time I see you, you're covered in filth from somewhere?"

He brushed a few needles off his shoulders, trying in vain to shake the dust and ash from the mine off his boots.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Playing Pazaak at the local cantina."

Tova rolled her eyes at him. "If you want my help, you're going to have to trust me-"

"I _don't_ want your help. I wanted you to stop annoying me."

"There are rumors going around the city now," she continued, ignoring him. "About a Sith threat to the north. Know anything about that?"

"If I do, you'll be the first one I'll make sure not to tell."

He didn't remember much about the night before, but he did distinctly recall the smirk she was giving him, and that it didn't mean anything good.

"You're not a very good liar, you know that?"

He knew a bluff when he heard one. Dustil gave her his best Fearsome Jedi Knight look (which was remarkably similar to his best Cold-hearted Sith Student look).

"Unless you want to be picked up and tossed out of here, I'd advise you to shut up and finish reading."

She pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine. Then let me read," she finally said curtly, turning back to the console.

"I am beginning to suspect that there is more to these 'accidents' than first appears. Chael feels different somehow, in a way that only a Jedi could perceive-" she read aloud.

_The Sith were around when Akiva was alive? And doing more than hiding out in a cave?_

Dustil walked over to the computer console, leaning over it to try and get a better look. Tova shoved him away.

"Pardon me, but you're blocking my view," she said in an austere tone, like they were in the Jedi Library itself rather than a dusty little room in Mikael.

"Move. I need to start going over these." He reached out to scroll the entry down.

Her hand reached out and smacked his enough to make it sting. Dustil recoiled, shaking his hand furiously.

"Weren't you just telling me to 'shut up and read'?" she mocked.

"Look-"

"While you were out rolling around in mud somewhere, I've already read over most my grandfather's archives and can readily pull up any entry. You haven't even started them," she added, leaning towards him, her blond curls shaking as she moved her mouth.

"I doubt you understand any of it," he shot back.

"Maybe not, but you apparently do."

She gave him that calculating look again, and he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I'm only going to say this one more time," Dustil finally snapped. "Your father doesn't want you in here, and with good reason. I'm not letting you help me, and I don't care what kinds of stories you cook up to tell him."

Tova frowned. She savagely pressed a button on the archive computer, pushing herself up demurely from the chair.

"Fine," she hissed, pushing past him and stalking towards the door.

Dustil sighed, sitting down in the chair and pushing himself up to the screen.

_ERROR: ENTER ACCESS CODE_

_MESSAGE: I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT TRY SOMETHING LIKE THIS, SO I TOOK PRECAUTIONS._

His hands curled around the edges of the console, his nails digging into its metal sides.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no desire to wring that little cantina rat's neck._

Tova slowly walked back over to him from where she had been standing watching him near the doorway. Her hands poised over his shoulder, ready to enter in whatever blasted encryption she had put on her grandfather's archives; only waiting for him to move his tensed arms.

_There is no choice_, he thought sarcastically, removing his hands from the console.

Tova leaned over him with a sly smile, punching a few buttons until the archives were back up on the screen.

Dustil stood up from the chair, crossing wordlessly to stare at Akiva's cased lightsaber. His host's daughter reseated herself at the computer.

"There's an unknown number of Sith massing somewhere to the North," he told her. "They're holed up in one of the defunct mines. I'm investigating why they're here and how to stop them."

Tova nodded. "And because Grandfather Akiva was the last known Jedi on the planet, you need his archives to see if there's a precedent for Sith invasions." She turned to glance at the screen.

"You've managed to unlock my great-grandfather's most recent entries, from around the birth of my father up until Akiva's death in the wilds. There are many more archives and journal entries, but they're encrypted the further back you go, and I assume they've all got some secret way to open them that only users of the Force are supposed to know."

"Excluding you, of course," she added suspiciously.

"If I was Force sensitive, sister, I would have Force persuaded you out of this crazy idea by now."

Tova Vin laughed, and he found that he liked her a lot better when she was smiling.

"So summarize for me," Dustil continued. "What was Akiva doing from the birth of Jaron on?"

"He appeared to have been just getting over his disappointment at his own children not being Force-sensitive," Tova began in a somewhat matter-of-fact tone. "I guess the birth of my father convinced him that there was no chance anywhere down the line of another Jedi. His entries are concerned with finding Force sensitives on the planet to start his Academy, none of which he ever got to in time."

"Does he mention anything about the Sith?"

"He uses that word you used to open the archives- 'Sith'ari' -several times. I'll read it, but I'm not sure what he's talking about." His host's daughter leaned over the screen, beginning to read aloud.

_I am beginning to suspect that there is more to these 'accidents' than first appears. Chael feels different somehow, in a way that only a Jedi could perceive. The air is cooler, the wilds seem threatening rather than life-sustaining as they were originally planted for. _

_One unfortunate missing tourist can be written off as an accident. Two begins to look suspicious. Three or four careless, and five enough to incite panic._

_And I haven't even informed the authorities yet about how all five of those casualties were Force-sensitives-_

"So assassinations were happening even back then." Dustil murmured.

"Assassinations?" Tova replied skeptically. "What makes you assume that the Sith might have killed these people?"

"There's no real reason for anyone else to specifically target Force-sensitives. And read what he said about how the feeling of the planet had changed; how he sensed some kind of impending darkness. You don't sense that with random thugs or bounty hunters."

_If they are simply attempting a hostile takeover of Chael, I doubt their efforts will get them anywhere. Although they are deadly, I know only that there is no army of Sith'ari here; I would estimate around a dozen or so, considering their tactics. They surround the victims and break them off from the main group, sometimes in trios and other times in such numbers that local forces cannot even estimate a figure. They probably switch personnel as well, so as to confuse any fledgling Force-users trying to sense them._

_But somehow I know it is more than the usual Sith plot for galactic domination. My years of study on this subject, how the Sith'ari mean to somehow harness the Force and at the same time release it- the conflict is too large not to be felt-_

"Here's where Grandfather Akiva starts to lose me," Tova murmured.

"He might be talking about the conflict between the Jedi and Sith…" Dustil replied, trailing off.

He too, didn't know exactly where Akiva was going with the whole harnessing and releasing the Force idea.

_I begin to have visions of insect-like creatures; dark, blood red, and terrifying. These creatures no longer exist. They cannot exist; our teachings have stomped them out, destroyed their way of life forever._

That one he had no idea what to do with. Nightmares of bug-like creatures that the Jedi had somehow destroyed…Dustil shook his head.

_But these visions haunt me…I am resolved to venture into the wilds myself, and find out their intentions._

"This is the last significant one before he died," his host's daughter finished.

"It wasn't an accident then."

"What?"

"His death." Tova Vin fell silent for a moment, staring at the screen like it was Akiva Vin's tombstone.

"He must have gone into the wilds on that excursion, went off on his own, and they must have ambushed him," Dustil added. "I wonder if they knew how close he was to discovering who and what they were."

"Exactly who or what are they? I'm not exactly hip to the whole Jedi speak…this Sith'ari stuff and dreams about giant red bugs go right over my head."

"The Sith'ari is a myth of the Sith culture. They believe that someday there's going to be some perfect creature that'll balance the Force."

That was what the harnessing and the releasing might have been referring to: the way the Sith believe they controlled the Force and could 'harness' it, and the way the Jedi believed the Force governed their actions, that they 'released' themselves to it.

He scoffed. _Sith'ari_…He remembered Master Yuthura mentioning to them that they should all aspire to be like this impossible ideal. He had found it just as ludicrous then as he did now.

_You can't balance the Force. People who have been on both sides of it spend their lives tipping the scales back and forth._

"Assuming the Sith from twenty or so years ago are the same ones threatening Chael now, they're either aspiring to follow ancient Sith ideals or trying to be a bunch of Sith'ari."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this for a non-Jedi," Tova said.

_That's because I very much _am _a Jedi._

"I've been, uh…trained in this sort of stuff. The government likes to have people informed on possible Sith threats, considering they haven't had a Jedi on the planet to deal with them since your grandfather."

Tova seemed to digest this and finally nodded in acceptance.

"Is there any more?" he asked.

"A couple. That is, if you want to keep going."

He hadn't been alone with a girl for…well, longer than someone his age should have, but Dustil found that he could still decipher their usually enigmatic signals.

The hesitant '_That is, if you want to keep going'_ really meant '_Do you still want me around?'_

Dustil smiled at her.

"Two non-Jedi are better than one."


	15. Chapter 15

_The glint of his armor, magnified a dozen times by the bright lights of the command ship threatened to blind her for a moment, but she whirled around him, slashing furiously._

_Mandalore didn't fight as though he were enraged at having just lost a battle for galactic conquest. He almost seemed to invite her parries and thrusts._

_This had supposedly been the greatest battle of her life. But she moved around the Mandalorian leader's attacks easily, almost danced past the precise strikes he made with his vibroblade._

_That was because this battle had already happened and she was only fighting it again for the benefit of Malak, who stood off to the side watching as he had in the original battle._

_"You would not let me help you, Revan," he murmured calmly. "I tried once-"_

_He moved lazily into the circle she and Mandalore had created, making a weak swing towards the armored leader._

_She did what she was supposed to- slammed her lightsaber down to block Malak's, holding out her hand and shoving him back to where he had been standing._

_Malak stood, brushing himself off and folding his arms._

_"You wanted all the glory in this conflict. It had become personal between yourself and Mandalore, and you longed to prove who was the stronger. In that respect, you and he were not so different."_

_"I don't want glory anymore, Malak," she replied, breathing heavily as she continued to battle Mandalore. "I just want to live my life."_

_Her former apprentice laughed softly._

_"You never lied to me when I was alive, Revan. It seems strange that you would make the clumsy effort now in my death."_

_Mandalore stumbled backwards, and she knew what happened next. She slammed her lightsaber through his chest, watching as he gave a last gasp and fell face down onto the metal flooring of his ship._

_Outside the windows she watched as her own fleet and that of the Republic's flew like tiny fireflies across the sky, hammering the Mandalorian forces into submission._

Carth is somewhere out there. _The thought was strange to have in the middle of this memory, at a time when the name 'Onasi' had meant nothing to her. _

_Malak walked forward, joining her to stand over the body of the fallen Mandalorian leader._

_"Theirs was a wasted effort. The Mandalorians could never have conquered the galaxy, and yet they made the attempt anyway. Why?"_

_This was not part of the memory, and she glanced up at him._

_"For the honor of battle, to prove themselves against-"_

_"Something drove them, Revan, but it was not their lost codes of arms. And for some, it is not the desire to wipe out the Jedi that drives these assassins today. It was not even glory that drove you and I down the dark path."_

_She could think of a thousand questions to ask, but realized that she wouldn't get a chance to ask them. Until she fell asleep again, at least._

_"Mommy?" She turned her head about wildly, trying to see where it was coming from, but the voice seemed perpetually behind her._

_Malak smirked at her._

_"But I forget, Revan, you no longer desire glory. You wish to live your life."_

"Carth?"

Katrina glanced behind her. Dathan leaned up against the doorway, his face lit up like he had just discovered the secret of hyperspace travel.

"What?"

"Carth _Onasi_? The Hero of the Republic? The Admiral of the Fleet?"

His reputation preceded him; as well as preceding her and Dustil.

"Do you know of another one in this galaxy?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Admiral Carth Onasi is your husband?"

Everyone had been saying his name since Chael, but apparently the doctor had just now made the connection.

"For all intents and purposes." Katrina studied his shocked face. "Didn't my brother tell you that?"

Dathan seemed to digest the information for a moment.

"Your brother's not the most forthcoming of men."

_Tell me about it._

The doctor stood silent, rubbing his hand over his chin and finally joining her in the co-pilot's chair.

"You'd, uh," he murmured, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "You'd probably rather he was here than me, I guess."

"Are you kidding?" Katrina laughed. "Admiral Onasi I can handle. Expectant Father Carth might kill me."

"Or you might kill him when you show up a few months from now," Jolee said, entering the cockpit and sitting down. "The Admiral's getting old. We old men have weak hearts, you know-"

"I don't think we're going to find Bastila here, Jolee," Katrina murmured.

"And why not?"

"This isn't exactly…Bastila's _scene_."

For one thing, she couldn't sense the Jedi any stronger here than she had on Kashyyyk or Telos or Ord Mantell.

For another thing, the planet that festered around them was an ugly mix of brown and black, tumultuous cloud cover shifting and swirling about the atmosphere fast enough that they could see it from where the _Chaser_ hovered in space.

"You're not going to blend in so well yourself, kid," the old Jedi retorted.

She pulled her robes around her stomach self-consciously. "I don't suppose there's a friendly office of tourism here."

"There wouldn't be, would there?" Jolee said dryly. "Ithull was destroyed by the Mandalorians in the wars ten years ago. The entire Ithullan population has practically been wiped out. What's left of the Mandalorian clans come and go from this world. It's become a temporary den of mercs and smugglers."

"Like I said," Katrina muttered. "Not exactly Bastila's scene."

The "dock" was simply a flat plain of cleared earth surrounded by some electronic marker posts. And the settlement that surrounded it a group of half-burned buildings that looked like they had always been black and crumbling instead of tall and clean as they would have been about ten years ago- before the Mandalorians had destroyed this world.

She could barely make out a slight grinding noise coming from her right as they walked down the gangplank. It took her a moment to realize that it was Dathan's chattering teeth.

"Are you all right?"

The doctor stood perfectly still, not even turning his head to look at her, his assault rifle at a perfect forty-five degree angle against his chest.

"Let's find this Jedi," he said flatly.

Katrina exchanged a glance with Jolee, beginning to walk into the ruins of Ithull.

"Now go over this again, Jolee. Just why do you think Bastila might be here, of all places in the galaxy?"

"Bastila's knighthood trial was to investigate the Mandalorians. What with the rumors about the Sith growing in number, as were the number of surviving Mandalorian clans coming out of the woodwork, we suspected that they might start fighting amongst themselves, trying to raise a new Mandalore…" Jolee trailed off, chuckling.

"Our beloved Council does have a history of being behind the ball, don't they? _Now_ they're willing to be suspicious of the Mandalorians. Should any of them survive all this, I'm sure they'll spend the next few years suspecting anything that treads on the path of the Sith."

"But there's Mandalorians everywhere, Jolee. Why would Bastila be here?"

"I never said she was, did I?" he said irritatedly. "The last message she sent to Coruscant was from this planet. We didn't hear from her again for a few months, and then the Council went into hiding themselves."

So she had been here on Ithull, and their bond, though faint, told her the Jedi was alive. That was pretty much all Katrina had to work with.

The Mandalorian outpost was mostly populated with mercs and Corellian smugglers. She noticed a few lone Echani and Iridorians, but they seemed to be in a hurry to restock and fly away again.

_With good reason_, she thought, noticing the dead body of an Echani lying outside a nearby cantina.

She remembered the groups sparring on Manaan, coming as close as they could on the neutral world to brawling. Out here on a Mandalorian-conquered world under martial law, it was no wonder some of them ended up dead.

"We could throw her name around."

"And maybe next we can hold up a big sign that says 'Here's Revan'," Jolee shot back. "Come on. Use that tactician's brain everyone's always raving about."

Someone was bound to be in one of the cantinas that would have heard something about a high-profile Jedi like Bastila. The asking would have to be handled very delicately- whatever merc or smuggler she was grilling would have to be convinced that she was just like them, and her questioning was merely to follow up on a bounty or contract-

No, they were conspicuous enough as it was: an old man, a pregnant woman in Jedi robes, and Dathan, who clenched his weapon so tightly that his knuckles appeared to be losing circulation.

So someone would have to go into the cantina and ask vaguely about Jedi. And unfortunately, that someone couldn't be her. Or, for that matter, Jolee. And it definitely couldn't be all of them.

"Dathan, you're going to have to go in there."

The doctor looked from her to the cantina and then back to her again with a blank expression.

"I need you to pretend you're a merc and ask if there have been any Jedi who've stopped here, or any that they've heard about. If they ask why, say you've been hired by Revan and that she's gone back to the Sith-"

"She has?" Jolee exclaimed, putting a hand up to his throat in mock astonishment.

"No one's going to believe I'm a merc," the doctor added quietly.

She looked him up and down- he hadn't looked like much on Chael, at least not anything that could aim an assault rifle so well, but his entire personality seemed changed upon stepping onto Ithull. He had barely said a word since they'd stepped off the ship, and he looked as guarded and potentially dangerous as any other cut-throat walking by.

"Someone's a lot more likely to think you're one than me or Jolee."

The old Jedi opened up his mouth as if to protest, but sighed instead, leaning in towards the doctor. "She's right, kid. Just be short, quick, and to the point. Mercs love that."

"See? You aren't useless," Katrina added, smirking at Dathan.

She had meant to give him confidence, but the fear and apprehension radiating off him was so strong that it could have been sensed by untrained Force-sensitive children a couple parsecs away.

"Don't mention Bastila's name or Jolee's. And don't say anything about the Republic or the wars. And act tough, but don't overdo it or they'll know."

Dathan raised his head, nodded smartly, and went marching into the cantina.

Both Jedi stood silent for a few minutes, waiting.

"I get the feeling he doesn't like Mandalorians," the old Jedi commented.

"I don't like _this_, Jolee," she muttered.

"The fact that you just sent a doctor to do a former Sith Lord's work? The fact that we're on a war-ravaged planet outside a cantina that smells like it was spawned from a rancor's armpit? The fact that there are assassins hunting us down left and right?" Jolee murmured, folding his arms and watching the cantina over her head.

"I'd be more concerned with the fact that a few of our friendly neighborhood Mandalorians just surrounded the good doctor."

Loud outbursts and roars came from behind her, punctuated with the sounds of blasters coming out of their holsters.

Katrina headed into the raucous cantina, carefully avoiding the dead Echani.

Some poor spacer whose mouth had been bigger than his blaster went down after a crippling punch from a nearby merc in front of her. Blood from his broken nose sprayed onto her shoulder. She sniffed, stepping over him and making her way towards the bar.

She had been in worse pits before.

Dathan stood in the middle of a circle of various cantina patrons, one of which had a blaster pressed snugly against his forehead.

_But not much worse._

A few patrons looked up at her; bounty hunters searching their mental lists of fugitives, Mandalorians making ugly looks of skepticism at her worn but still recognizably Jedi robes.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Republic scum."

Katrina's face twisted up in confusion, staring at Dathan. His blue eyes were cold and almost colorless as he stared back at the Mandalorian who was threatening him.

"Go ahead. I'll die happy knowing I'm not a Mandalorian."

She sighed in disgust. She hadn't thought it was possible to mess up _that_ badly and that quickly.

"Shoot my bounty, Mandalorian, and I'll put one on your head so quickly that half this cantina will be begging me to cash it in," Katrina called out.

The Mandalorian didn't move. Instead he pulled out his other blaster, aiming it squarely at her neck, never breaking eye contact with Dathan.

"Not if I kill both of you."

"You want to let him go. You want to let both of us go." Their attacker looked disoriented for a moment, blinking and letting his hands waver on the triggers of both blasters.

"He may want to let you go, Jedi." This voice, like the one in her dream, was airy and came from behind her.

Katrina turned around slightly, meeting the gaze of whatever set of eyes was hidden under the battered helmet of an Iridorian.

She and Jolee pulled out their lightsabers, fending off the swarm of cantina patrons who had surrounded them.

The Iridorian very calmly held out his hand.

She had seen them so often on Anelli and in the hands of hundreds of enemies before and since that she was surprised she didn't recognize the object upon first glance.

Upon second glance, she identified it as a merrily blinking thermal detonator. Several others, apparently members of the Iridorian's crew, stepped towards them. They held devices that looked eerily familiar.

"_No one's allowed to talk to the prisoner. Brejik's orders. She wouldn't hear you anyway: she's got a neural disruptor collar on to keep her under control."_

"But I am more than willing to take you into custody."

* * *

She felt like two daggers were being dragged off her temples. Katrina groaned. A hand gently slapped both of her cheeks.

"You're going to increase the risk of neural damage-"

"Quiet, you. It's your mouthiness that's gotten us into this mess."

Jolee's wrinkled hands, bound together and grasping a neural disruptor collar, were the first things she saw.

"You've got breath like a bantha," she said weakly.

The old Jedi smirked. "That's more like it."

She recognized their surroundings easily enough- it was the small cargo hold of the _Jedi Chaser_.

Jolee knelt in front of her, looking fatigued but alert. Dathan knelt next to him, his hands bound as well.

The doctor didn't look so much tired as he did a kid who knew he was about to get punished big-time.

"I seem to be ending up in shackles a lot lately," Jolee muttered, sitting back on his legs. "No matter. These hosts aren't any smarter than my last ones."

"They were smart enough to use the neural disruptor collars," Katrina said, using the Force to unbind her hands.

"Hmph. They also assumed both of us were too weak to will ourselves out of them." Jolee stood, rubbing his wrists as his own binders fell off.

"Any idea what their intentions are?"

"I doubt it was to be polite and deposit our unconscious bodies back on our own ship. Probably planning on stealing it. I don't blame 'em- she's a good little ship. Not the _Hawk_, mind you, but still-"

"Uh…would either of you like to help me out?" Dathan murmured, holding up his bound wrists.

Katrina folded her arms, looking severely down at him.

"You spent about five minutes in that cantina. Somehow, in the space of five minutes, you managed to insult a Mandalorian, let the whole place know you were affiliated with the Republic, and forced us to show a bunch of bounty hunters that we were, indeed, hunted Jedi that any Sith would pay top credits for."

He didn't look sorry. In fact he looked incensed that she hadn't immediately freed him.

"I told you they wouldn't believe I was a merc. You told me to go anyways. So really, listening to _you_ is what got us in here-"

"And so you're going to take your toys home and not play anymore, blah blah, we've got it," Jolee broke in. "Let's get rid of these Iridorians before they cash us in somewhere."

Being that the _Chaser _was a small, confined space- and Katrina knew every secret corner of it- it wasn't difficult to ambush the Iridorian who had captured them and his four crew members in the cockpit.

"They haven't even left Ithull yet," Dathan murmured, stepping over one of the still smoking bodies and glancing out the window at the glooming surroundings.

_They raised the shields and powered up the gun turret though. I guess they thought they might have to blast their way off the planet._

Katrina bent over, reaching for the arm of one of the Iridorians.

"They don't teach us this in medical school or anything, but I'm pretty sure dragging corpses off ships isn't good for a developing fetus."

_There is no emotion, there is no mounting desire to turn back to the dark side, if only for one sweet, blissful moment-_

"Here, sonny, help me," Jolee broke in, his voice echoing as the two men began dragging the bodies towards the gangplank. "And while we're at it, let me tell you a little story about a certain young man who pushed a Dark Lord too far one day…"

Katrina shoved the dead Iridorian who had captured them out of the pilot's chair, seating herself.

They hadn't damaged anything; but they had succeeded in overriding the entire computer and adding their own data into it. This particular crew of Iridorians had apparently been collecting bounties for a few Sith on Corellia who lacked either the spine or the energy to go after Jedi themselves.

Katrina scanned the list of bounties they had collected on, feeling a shiver go down her spine as she recognized a few names.

They had also intercepted a message that had just come in from Dustil and added him to their list.

She deleted his bounty entry as well as hers and Jolee's with a small smirk of satisfaction, filing Dustil's message away to read later.

Dathan walked back into the cockpit.

"Sit down." He obeyed.

"Tell me why you don't like Mandalorians." He glanced at her with those glassy, naked blue eyes he had used in the cantina.

"Anyone who fought in the Wars doesn't like Mandalorians for obvious reasons."

"You have different reasons. And I'm not traveling around this galaxy with two different doctors; one who badgers me about pre-natal care and another who causes chaos every time we run into a Mandalorian."

"So?" Katrina pressed. "I've done this before with a much more stubborn head than yours, and I'll keep at it until-"

"We were at the Battle of Onderon," Dathan said calmly, without a moment's hesitation. "I was a medic on the front lines, just promoted to doctor. I was trying to save one of our men when I spotted a dying Mandalorian a few feet away."

The doctor began to pick at the skin around his fingernails, staring hazily out the cockpit like he could see the battle being re-enacted before his eyes.

"He must have been delirious- no Mandalorian cries out like that in the heat of battle or in the face of pain. As soon as I had finished with the Republic soldier, I went over to him, thinking I could ease his pain."

_There are no misplaced priorities._

Katrina grasped vaguely at her stomach. Her brain was utterly confused for a moment, scrambling to assign adjectives to what she had just felt somewhere below her ribs.

She abandoned the adjectives upon finding the noun: the baby- the _"Mommy?"-_ kicking.

"Turned out he had been trying to get me away from the Republic soldier. He shot him right in the head the minute I moved away."

_So this is when you choose to come alive. In the middle of a soldier's story of how this never-ending war scarred him for life._

She ran her fingers gently over her stomach. The tips of them tingled and shook slightly.

"I was so angry that I had been used like that, that someone could have that much disregard for sentient life." Dathan's voice shook too; violent and fearless like the creature she had seen in the cantina, unafraid to die if it meant he wasn't a Mandalorian.

She was suddenly completely aware of the bond between herself and the _"Mommy?"; _the bond that seemed so overwhelmingly strong that she felt it must have been there forever.

"I grabbed the dead Republic soldier's vibroblade and shoved it straight through the Mandalorian's chest. I made sure not to pierce his heart or lungs so that he would die slowly, and I left him there to continue down the front lines." The doctor went over each sentence slowly and carefully, enunciating every word precisely and never mumbling, like he was confessing to an act in court.

_And someday I'll be sure to tell you of what I was listening to when you first started kicking- you truly are my child to respond to this, aren't you?_

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you that before this happened. We might not have had to kill those Iridorians. It's my problem, not yours, and I'll try to control it the rest of the time I'm with you." Dathan rose from his chair and exited the cockpit swiftly.

_Well. That was rich_. She could remember wheedling similar confessions out of some; cajoling, forcing, bribing, begging them out of others. But she couldn't remember ever simply asking a question, and getting an answer.

"Heh. You should have seen their faces. It was quite a scene…" Jolee murmured as he re-entered the cockpit.

"Where were you?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Bah, I know when to make myself scarce. I am a _Jedi_, you know. Able to sense feelings and all that."

"What happened?"

"Apparently a few of their fellow bounty hunters and mercs decided to either claim us for themselves, take our ship, kill the Iridorians, or all three. However, once they saw Dathan and I dragging their dead bodies down the gangplank, they decided the cantinas were looking infinitely more appealing." He leaned over her, glancing at the screen where the files of the dead Iridorians still sat. "Seems as though dumb luck is still favoring us."

Katrina's eyes moved to where he was indicating.

_HIGH PRIORITY BOUNTY:_

_Shan, Bastila- Jedi Knight_

_LAST KNOWN LOCATION:_

_Southern Underground, Coruscant_

Dumb luck, the Force- she didn't care which, as long as it kept helping her out.


	16. Chapter 16

_On the other side of the doors she could hear the sound of whatever Republic dignitary was introducing him; _"_…a hero hundreds of times over, and most recently the hero who helped save the galaxy, it is my great honor and privilege…"_

_"Ready, Admiral?" _

_He rolled his eyes. "Do you plan on calling me that for the rest of my life?"_

_"Not _all _the time," she answered, smirking at the flush he tried futilely to wipe off his face._

"_-Admiral Carth Onasi!"_

_The doors opened. She struggled not to make a scrunched up face of pain at the sudden onslaught of light and noise. The roar from the crowd was overwhelming._

_She grasped her dress in one hand to keep from tripping over it, walking down the stairs and trying not to laugh at Carth, who was smiling like a lunatic and waving with a tight palm._

_"Damn it," she heard him force through his teeth._

_Reporters and members of the media had their recording devices stuck out as far past the barriers as they could without falling over. The whole of the Republic and a good sized representation of the Jedi Order stood on the floor, applauding._

_"Admiral Onasi, how does it feel to be the Savior of the Republic?"_

_"What are your plans for the future, Admiral?"_

_"Who's the lovely lady, Admiral?"_

_She shrunk somewhat behind him. The eyes of all of them were on her, whispering, wondering._

None of them know, _she told herself firmly. _You are just a woman. You are just Katrina, a Jedi with a green lightsaber. You are just another member of the _Ebon Hawk_'s crew.

_She met Master Vandar's eyes across the sea of people; over in the corner where he stood with a few other members of the Council; the ones keeping her secret._

_With Juhani, who looked decidedly uncomfortable, her hands behind her back as though she were afraid to bump elbows with any of the glittering dignitaries; and with Jolee, who watched all of it like it was a holovid made for his amusement._

_There was an awkward scuffle in the back of the row of reporters; the Coruscant Security team was quick and efficient, dragging whoever had caused the commotion out of the vast ballroom._

"…_Revan!"_

_The loud roar of the celebration had covered it up for most, but not for those who had been listening for those letters, in that combination._

_Carth's grip on her arm was painfully tight._

None of them know for sure, _she repeated, pulling away from him and retreating towards the silent group of Jedi. _There are a million brunettes with hazel eyes in the galaxy; there are no samples of her DNA to run against mine; there aren't many people who have seen her face and lived to remember it; the only people who really know are the ones in Jedi robes, and they're never going to tell.

_"You look very nice," Juhani murmured as she approached._

_"You can put a Wookiee in a Czerka uniform, but he's still a Wookiee," Katrina replied, trying un-tangle her foot from the yards of fabric._

_"Or a Sith Lord in a fancy dress." She glared at Jolee._

_"Calm down, kid, it was a joke. Force knows this party could use a couple."_

_"Observation: Master, several human females seem to be latching onto Admiral Onasi's appendages. Such close proximity raises the risk of an assassination attempt. You have charged me with your protection as well as the Republic meatbag's during this event. Permission to terminate them?"_

_Katrina didn't need the droid to tell her that- the squealing of starry-eyed women could be heard all the way across the room._

_"No, HK. Let him enjoy that particular_ _perk while it lasts." Jealousy seemed so stupid now, now that he was willing to ignore who she was and what she had done._

No one knows, _she reassured herself, noting how most of the room had forgotten her the moment she was no longer at Carth's side._

_Hell, she hadn't even been included in the hastily produced holofeature, _Victory: The Carth Onasi Story_; which paired an overly stimmed Captain Onasi and a large busted Jedi Bastila together and mentioned the rest of the _Ebon Hawk_'s crew only once. (Carth had taken it in good humor, especially when the actor playing him had been given 'baby' and 'good-lookin' rather than 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous'. Bastila hadn't been so forgiving, especially when the holofeature had ended with her character saying 'Shut up and kiss me, you fool!')_

_No, the Coruscant media wasn't interested in the truth. Especially when it was lost amid the vague prophecies and metaphysical explanations of the Jedi Order, and there was a much happier and much more adaptable storyline right in front of them._

_The same Republic dignitary had begun to speak again, lauding their accomplishments and re-telling the past few months like they had been easy._

_"…for centuries, the Jedi Order has protected and advised the Republic against all threats…"_

_This wasn't only a PR exercise for the Republic; but for the Jedi Order, who still faced prejudice because of their hesitance to act during the Mandalorian Wars._

_"…Tonight we also wish to honor their contribution in this victory, in particular the efforts of a young Jedi who has been a fixture in our ranks since the conflict began. Her abilities are legendary, and her exploits famed across the galaxy. Please join me in extending our thanks towards Jedi Padawan Bastila Shan."_

_Katrina finally spotted the Jedi as the clapping hands and smiling faces of the room turned towards her, standing tall and serenely near the stage where the Republic dignitary had called out her name._

_She looked no different on the outside than the first time Katrina had seen her; proud, stubborn, and willing to do what she had to._

_"Bastila takes much upon her shoulders," Juhani murmured._

And why not? She was the one who saved us, after all.

_Killing Malak had only served to complete the endless circle of the Sith- not save thousands of lives in a heated space battle or destroy the Star Forge._

_"Let's not forget some contributions by certain other members of the _Ebon Hawk's _crew," Jolee sniffed. "I think that choice you made on the Rakatan homeworld might have something to do with all this."_

_Not really. It was Bastila's redemption that had been important, though like hers it was now just another secret of the Jedi Order. Republic officials and members of the Fleet didn't understand 'Sith' from 'Jedi'- only which one had been helping them. And only two members of the Fleet had known that, for a time, Bastila had _not_ been helping them. _

_The rest bought a Jedi hero with Battle Meditation along with the rest of the victory package._

_And the Rakatan Temple…Revan no longer existed. Therefore, she couldn't be redeemed. Therefore, her choice had been clear._

No one knows, _she thought, relieved at last. _How could they, she's supposed to be dead-

She _is _dead, _Katrina reminded herself. _

* * *

"Docking fee of three-hundred credits, lady."

The port authority in this part of Coruscant was decidedly less friendly than those near Senate Hill. They were heavily armored, and the guard asking for the fee held out one hand to accept the credits while the other stayed securely on the hilt of his blaster.

"Three-hundred? Seems a little extreme." The guard bristled slightly at the woman's objection, though he didn't go straight to his blaster.

"This is a rough neighborhood," he replied, glancing around for proof and deciding that she'd have to find out the hard way like everyone else. "You want official protection for your ship, well, that costs credits."

The woman begrudgingly handed over the money.

"What's this?" The guard walked out from behind his computer console, poking her dangling lightsaber with his blaster.

"It's mine," the woman replied evenly.

He looked her up and down; taking in the worn brown robes, parts scorched black from blasters or lightsabers or both; the proud set of her jaw and the iciness of her green eyes that made up a face he was sure he had seen before, if only he could remember; and then, of course, the obviousness of her protruding stomach.

"Only Jedi carry those, and you're no Jedi. Search the ship!" he called out, the rest of the security team swarming around and onto the ship registered as the _Chaser_.

The woman folded her arms, flanked by the two heavily armored Iridorians at either side of her. One leaned forward, whispering something in her head to which she nodded in reply.

The guard didn't like the look the woman had been giving him before the Iridorian had spoke; like he was only a fly in the way of a star destroyer.

"No illegal items on board, sir, nor any more evidence of members of the Order."

The security captain sighed, looking the woman and her two companions up and down suspiciously.

Ever since the Jedi had become endangered, they had been instructed to be on the alert for possible Sith assassins, identifiable by their weapons, robes, or methods of bypassing customs. This one had all the earmarks of one; especially when she was accompanied by Iridorians.

But without tangible proof, there was nothing to be done.

"You're free to go. But Coruscant Security will be keeping its eye on you, miss. You and your companions."

The woman nodded, breezing past him as the Iridorians followed, one of them giving him the eye before continuing into the Southern Underground.

"Looks a lot like one of those Star Forge Jedi," his lieutenant murmured, walking up to join him. "You know, the ones that were all over the HoloNet a couple years ago."

The guard scoffed, realizing the connection and rejecting it just as quickly.

"That's no Jedi, son. They aren't even allowed to love let alone breed."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Why didn't we just do this on Ithull?" Dathan murmured as soon as they were out of the security team's earshot, his Republic assault rifle clashing somewhat noticeably with his Iridorian armor.

"Because we didn't have the armor and I thought Ithull was isolated enough that- oh, never mind." Katrina sighed, shaking her pack slightly and feeling the lack of credits.

It had been a while since she had had to worry about where more credits were going to come from.

_And I can't exactly jump into the dueling rings or check out the swoop circuits anymore._

The few times she had landed on Coruscant had blended into two distinct experiences; coming off the _Hawk_ and being assaulted by well-wishers, fanatics, Republic officials, and HoloNet reporters in a blur that only ended when something more sensational had hit the newsvids. The other was nondescript and solemn; her many meetings with the Council, landing at the Jedi Temple where the media rarely ventured.

This time, however; the empty Jedi Temple off in the distance, silent and run-down, as well as the fact that they were getting off the ship near the Southern Underground, one of Galactic City's ugliest slums, made her want to fly back to Ithull and knock back a few in that pit of a cantina.

And getting past the port authority had been no small feat.

Using their lightsabers, wearing their robes, and stretching out with their feelings might identify them as Jedi, but going through official channels and leaving well-documented paper trails as to where they had been would be giving the Sith a helping hand.

_If Bastila can be followed this easily staying off the grid, it would be asking a little too much of the Force to try and keep the Sith away staying on it._

If they had recognized her and Jolee for Jedi, there would have immediately been official intervention. The Republic could do little in a battle between Force-users that didn't affect them directly, but whenever a Jedi was discovered, he was taken under the almighty wing of the Republic and sheltered with the most elite guard they had to offer.

_And however well-meaning the Republic is, those Jedi usually don't last very long._

The fact that she had little options left to her for disguise made it all the more suprising that she hadn't been pegged as one of the famous Star Forge Jedi, even with two armored Iridorians- the disguised Jolee, who grumbled under his breath about how heavy the damn thing was; and Dathan, who had gotten the armor on so quickly and easily that she was willing to bet he had worn armor many times before- at her side.

She had no such luxury- the Jedi robes had to stay. She had no credits and no time to go hunting for maternity clothes.

The glint of her lightsaber in the mirror above her head on the _Chaser _had caught her eye for a moment- her eyes that could no longer accept iris-tinting drops because they were too puffy and bloodshot from not sleeping. Dying her hair, perpetually pulled back and braided, was looking more and more appealing as she had noticed how much the top of her head was beginning to resemble a bird's nest.

'_Gorgeous' no more. I don't think I'm even passable for 'beautiful' at the moment._

Looking as irritable and determined as she felt might have been the only things that had given the guards doubts.

_Well, that, and you're disguise enough_, Katrina thought, patting her stomach in satisfaction.

Recognizing her as the rumored Dark Lord Revan- well, it had happened often enough four years ago. Now it was more an assumption for Jedi or Sith to make rather than common citizens or other non-Force users.

To which she was somewhat relieved. Because if someone, be it a Galactic Senator or a common soldier, decided to ask her nowadays if she was Revan, her answer would be simple.

_An unequivocal "yes" that would open the flood gates of hell._

Even down here in the slums, there were reminders of the opulence of Galactic City: seedier but no less flashy clubs and cantinas lined the streets, gaudy mockups of historical buildings serving far less reputable purposes.

Beggars lined the alleyways and abandoned storefronts, shrinking back from appealing to her when they noticed her fake Iridorian bodyguards.

_What the hell could Bastila possibly be doing down here?_ If the Jedi was trying to hide in a place no one would look for her, this was definitely the spot.

If the Jedi was trying to blend in, however, this was a lousy place to do it.

_Where is it…where is it…_She finally spotted the blinking holographic sign, half malfunctioning so that it only showed half of the cantina's name: "-Sadow's Tomb".

There had been more bounties than that of Bastila's in the lists the Iridorians had left on the _Chaser_'s computer:

_LOW PRIORITY BOUNTY_

_Vesser, Dak- Force-user once affiliated with Jedi Order_

_LAST KNOWN LOCATION_

_Owner of "Naga Sadow's Tomb" cantina, Southern Underground, Coruscant_

She gulped, blowing nervously into her clammy hands.

"Hurry up already. I'm sweating more than an uller in heat in this damn thing," Jolee snapped.

While the atmosphere of Dak's cantina was a lot nicer than that of the makeshift one on Ithull, the clientele was no less unsavory. Twi'lek dancing girls on break and Pazzak players around tables smirked cruelly at her but immediately returned to flirting or playing once they noticed Dathan and Jolee, disguised and intimidating at her sides.

"Be careful," the doctor murmured, his voice thick and low through the Iridorian mask.

"Next I suppose you'll be demanding that they talk to me with respect or you'll blast a hole through their undeserving mouths, right?" she replied, leaning over the grime-lined bar and waiting to get the attention of the Bith serving drinks at the end of it.

"_Hey, you talk to her with a bit of respect in your voice or you'll end this conversation minus a few teeth, got it?"_

She decided not to mention the fact that Lovesick Padawan Katrina had actually had to fight blushing from her jaw to her hairline when Carth had made a similar demand.

"Who are you looking for, sentient?" the Bith said calmly, walking over to her.

"What makes you think I'm looking for someone?"

"My species has evolved abstract thought into an art, sentient. You would not understand the factors that led to my conclusion even if I explained it to you. There is also the more obvious assumption that you aren't looking to stunt the growth of your offspring by indulging in alcoholic beverages."

_Smarter barkeep than most, _Katrina thought, glancing back to exchange a look with Dathan and startling herself when she saw the Iridorian helmet instead of his face.

"I need to see Dak Vesser."

The Bith shook his head. "The owner of this establishment takes no callers-"

"Rin'dan," The Bith turned his head to where his boss was calling him, his upper body sticking out of a hidden door near the back of the cantina. "We're going to-"

Dak Vesser never finished his sentence, his gaze locked on Katrina.

"Oh no," he said harshly, pointing a threatening finger towards her as she started to walk towards him. "Stay away from me."

Rin'dan the Bith, apparently all-around bouncer, drink server, and manager stepped out in front of her.

"I will resort to using force if I must, sentient," he said quietly, low enough not to attract the attention of the cantina's other patrons.

"I have something to tell you," she called out towards Dak, who was slowly retreating behind the door.

"There's nothing you have to say that I could possibly want or need to hear."

_Even about Juhani?_

Dak's head lowered slightly. He let the door swing open and went back into his hidden office before she could get a look at his expression.

She didn't blame him. She wasn't exactly itching to speak about Juhani in terms of Anelli, in terms of becoming one with the Force; in terms of dying.

And less itching to give the news to a man who had loved her once, and probably still did, judging by his reaction.

Dak Vesser's office was sparse and tidy, with very few belongings in it. The man himself was disheveled and lanky, a far cry from the trim, opportunistic Sith she had met on Korriban. He sat down at a chair behind his desk, putting a hand up to his chin and staring off into a corner of the room.

"All I want is to get away from anything that has to do with the Force, and here I get a former Sith Lord barging into my lowly cantina," he muttered.

"You know who I am?"

The cantina owner nodded. Jolee removed his helmet at that, ignoring Dak's quizzical gaze.

"You may be able to keep it from the general population of the galaxy, but the Sith can sense things just as well as the Jedi can," Dak replied. "I'm sure you've figured that out by now."

"But you're not a Sith anymore," Katrina added.

She couldn't sense much of anything off of Dak Vesser anymore. Certainly not the bitterness that had defined most of her memory of him.

"How exactly does a former Sith end up running a cantina in this neck of the woods, if I might ask?" Jolee murmured.

Dak didn't give the old Jedi as unforgiving a look as he gave Katrina, but he still glared all the same.

"I don't want anything to do with the Sith, or the Jedi. I'm tired of it and this is just one venture that doesn't involve the Force or the endless debate of light and dark."

Dathan finally removed his helmet as well, having decided that Dak Vesser was not a threat. "Not a bad one at that. You even have a very handy bartender."

Dak made a faint straight line with his mouth that Katrina realized was supposed to be a small smile.

"The Bith are great musicians, but they're also incredibly intelligent, and have evolved beyond instincts such as fear or passion, which make them great at keeping things in order. I'll probably give the place to him in a month or so."

"_Running away again?"_

Dak's head shot up, and he regarded her coldly for a moment. "You're a poor imitiation."

Katrina hadn't realized she had repeated Juhani's words out loud.

"Was it your doing?" he suddenly snapped.

"Was what-"

"Her _death_." 'Death' reverberated through the room like the vibrating strings of an instrument, only weakening over time.

"She was right," he said hoarsely. "When we were thinking of leaving the Jedi- well, when she was thinking; I had already decided long ago- she told me I could never leave the Force. That I could not control it like the Sith thought they could, that we could only draw on it. I…got angry, told her she was just spouting the lessons of our masters."

"But she was right. And I knew it that moment years ago, even after I had tried to give up the Force, to control it- when it felt like something had just snapped, and I knew that something was her."

Katrina grasped vaguely for Juhani, wishing she could hear the Cathar's gentle murmur in her head or feel her comforting hand on her shoulder. Or at least on Dak's shoulder, now slumped and slightly trembling.

But there was only awkward silence.

_There may be no death, but the Force doesn't bring them back either._

She had been worried about how to tell him, but it seemed as though that was no longer a concern. _And_ (as much as she was ashamed of the thought) _it also means I have no more bartering chips._

"Well," Dak laughed bitterly, turning back to her and placing two tightly clenched fists on the end of his desk. "If you're here to tell me about her, I already know. But thanks for the thought."

"I need information."

The cantina owner rolled his eyes. "Don't listen well, do you? I don't consort with Force-users anymore."

"I need to know if you've heard anything about the Jedi Bastila Shan," Katrina continued doggedly, despite knowing that there was no earthly reason for Dak to help her now, and even more reason for him to despise her.

"Everyone who watches the HoloNet has heard something about Bastila Shan," he snapped.

"She was tracked here by a couple of bounty hunters out on Ithull. They were planning on rounding you up and delivering you to the Sith at some point too."

"I'm assuming you 'took care' of them," Dak replied, eying the Iridorian armor on her companions.

"She was investigating the remnants of the Mandalorian clans for the Order, and then she disappeared," she continued. "You haven't happened to hear anything on the HoloNet about her untimely death or sightings of her here in the Southern Underground, have you?"

His eyes roamed over her, Jolee, and Dathan in turn, like he was apprising what kind of chance he had of dodging past the three of them and escaping.

"Rin'dan!" he called loudly, stepping out from behind the desk and shoving by her.

"They'll kill her, Dak-" The cantina owner ignored her, pushing open the door again. The Bith stood expectantly on the other side of it.

"These Sith will kill _all_ of us," Jolee added. "They won't care whether you used to be one yourself, or about your reasons for leaving."

"Juhani died fighting them." He glanced at her, his impenetrable glare weakening somewhat.

She could almost see the thoughts turning around in his head; the possible pros and cons, how much the feeling somewhere on the right side of his chest should factor into the decision.

It was then that she felt the Cathar, silent and gone as fast as she had appeared, warming the room with the glow of a quickly-blown out candle.

"For her sake," Katrina finished. "Just tell me if you've heard anything about Bastila."

"Your friend's got an awful lot of people angry with her," Dak finally said. "I've had more than one bounty hunter offer me credits for information about her whereabouts."

"Which are?" Katrina pressed.

"Last I heard, Shan was holed up in an apartment not too far from here. Around _The Jedi Temple_."

"That's not around here-"

"I don't mean the real one," the cantina owner added, holding open the door to indicate that their conversation was over.

"Thank you."

Dak nodded, turning his back on her.

"We're even now," he murmured quietly.

She didn't think he was talking to her. And she didn't think he really believed he and Juhani were even.

_The Jedi Temple_ was, in fact, only a few blocks away from _Naga Sadow's Tomb_. And it definitely wasn't the real one. It was a Twi'lek dancing bar, complete with grotesque versions of the very robes she was wearing.

However, Katrina wasn't interested in the bar. She was more interested in the lift that led to the apartments above it.

"Am I really all that less intimidating without this infernal device on?" Jolee complained, removing his helmet again the moment the lift doors closed.

"No, you're much more intimidating when you open your mouth. That alone makes people want to run away in fear," Dathan murmured.

Both Jedi raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" the doctor replied, narrowing his eyes defensively.

The apartments reminded her of the beat up ones in the Lower City on Taris, except these smelled enough that her nose wrinkled.

"You Jedi really go to any depths to stay hidden, don't you?" Dathan added, moving away from the walls like the grime on them was going to come alive and devour him.

"I didn't think Bastila would go this far." A small creature darted across the metal floor and disappeared into a corner.

_Poor Bastila_, she thought, smirking. _The woman has to be dying in a place like this. _

"Our Battle Meditation heroine has probably had to go to much greater lengths than even you or I," Jolee replied. "She's the one that stood and accepted the Cross of Glory on behalf of the Order, mind. Everyone knows her face and what she's done. Juhani and I, we were just part of the scenery. And you, heh, you were too busy playing arm candy to the Admiral to be recognized for much of anything."

_And if people started recognizing me for things, I doubt the first thing on their list would be saving the Republic._

"I suppose we just start canvassing the neighbors, eh?" the old Jedi finished, taking a step in front of her.

The door of the apartment a few feet away suddenly exploded outward with more force than actual smoke or fire. Jolee was immediately thrown backwards into her as she toppled back into Dathan like a stack of dominos. The floor vibrated underneath their feet as debris settled around them.

Katrina struggled to move her legs out from under Jolee and Dathan's arm from in front of her eyes.

A figure leapt deftly over the debris, taking off towards the end of the hall.

She was overwhelmed for a moment at the addition of her other incredibly strong bond. One hand went to her stomach (the source of one bond) while the other went to her forehead, which ached like she had stood up too fast.

The figure quickly retreating from the blasted apartment was Bastila. And the figure that leapt out after her, holding two smoking blasters in his hand and cursing loudly in Twi'leki was trying to kill her. Or capture her.

Or both.


	17. Chapter 17

"Dustil!"

Old habits made his hand go momentarily to his blaster at hearing someone behind him who knew his identity.

New knowledge; that he was on Chael, walking around in the well-lit and sunny streets of the city, and that the voice calling him was Jaron Vin's distinctive baritone made Dustil stop, turning to wait for his host.

"Thank you for stopping," Vin murmured breathlessly, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he finished jogging up to him. "Be nice to have a companion for the walk home."

"Work at an accountancy firm must be tiring," Dustil couldn't resist adding.

Vin smirked, shaking a finger at him.

"I suppose Tova's been hounding you again. I really must apologize for her; I'll try to do a better job at making sure she doesn't disrupt your work."

_Take her out of the equation and I probably wouldn't be getting much work done at all._

"Where are you coming from?"

"City center. Another meeting with the Mayor." Dustil squirmed uncomfortably, still feeling the aftertaste of Revan's brother in a bad mood.

Early morning summons were becoming standard fare, and so was being slightly late for them each time. It hadn't looked like Phineas was entirely ready to receive visitors anyways; his desk had been cluttered and dirty, his belongings flung around the room.

The Jedi Knight had even noticed the old lightsaber the Committee had made him keep lying out on the table.

"So?" the politican had demanded after Dustil had taken no more than two steps into his office.

"So…what?" Phineas had looked at him like he was a more than usually dull-witted aide.

"What have you found out?" he forced through gritted teeth.

Dustil could feel the politician's impatience and anger racing to see which one got out of control first, and he wondered momentarily what had set Revan's brother off.

"Akiva Vin encoded all his archives. I'm just now breaking into them layer by layer. He did a lot of research on the Sith and was probably murdered by them on that excursion. Their presence might have something to do with ancient Sith ideals-"

"I don't require a dissertation on the history of the Sith." Phineas's vocabulary had suddenly extended itself and he was back to the formality that made Dustil's blood run cold. "I require the information you've supposedly been working day and night on getting."

"Well I haven't gotten it yet, so you'll just have to wait," Dustil replied testily.

"_Wait?_" the politician spat, like Dustil had told him to go lick the floor of a cheap cantina.

"Miners are having armored guards accompany them on morning and evening commutes. Tourism has dropped dramatically, and even the economy's suffering because no one's willing to risk their life for a nice set of armchairs," he said coldly. "And you're presuming to tell me that all of this will have to _wait_ until you're good and ready?"

_If you had acted like this on Anelli, we would have known you were a Sith from the get-go, _Dustil thought grimly. The man had had the patience of a Jedi then.

Now he was an irritated mayor approaching middle age with lines in his wrinkled brow that Dustil hadn't noticed before.

"They're no threat to Mikael-"

"You people are supposed to be the protectors of the galaxy?" Phineas snapped, flinging the datapad he had been holding onto the desk to crash among the rest of the items on it.

"They're every threat to this city! To _my _city!" the politician roared.

His hand shot out, palm open and smooth, a motion Dustil had seen often enough to involuntarily flinch when he saw it.

This time, the motion did not send him tumbling into a wall or clench tightly around his throat. It flung the old Sith lightsaber lying on Phineas's desk across the room where it clattered harmlessly on the marble floor.

Dustil watched it roll, glancing up at Phineas, who breathed heavily from his bent over position.

He recognized the posture; the slight trembling that took over your veins and made your muscles twitch.

_You're a lightweight, _he thought to himself. _Wait until the signs of your old life aren't so obvious anymore. Then you'll start analyzing every action of your new one, constantly wondering if you aren't falling back and it's just so gradual that you don't realize it._

His mental shields had immediately gone up, recoiling from anything that was close to sympathizing with this man.

"I…apologize for that, Dustil. You didn't deserve it," Revan's brother muttered, running a hand through his hair and pacing back and forth in front of the windows.

"Revan's on her way to Coruscant. She says it shouldn't be long before she's back, though knowing Coruscant I think she's being a tad optimistic."

Dustil nodded, not bothering to correct Phineas. If Revan said it wouldn't be long, it wouldn't be long.

"And you can't tell me anything more about what these Sith might be planning?" The politician didn't lift his voice at the end of it, making it sound more like a statement than a question he already knew the answer to.

"It has something to do with the ancient history of the Sith. Whether they have some kind of specific agenda against the planet or individuals on it, I can't say," Dustil replied.

Phineas nodded, straightening up.

He wondered if it was just something about that familiar jawline; those hazel eyes or the brown hair that gave brother and sister the ability to adapt to situations and feelings on the spur of the moment.

"Contact me the moment you find out," he continued, with a deadly calm in his voice so different from the anger he had just exhibited that it almost startled Dustil more. "They won't find whatever they seek. I'm not going to let them take away the things I value most. Not again."

_No, that's not it. Getting angry at them, blaming them, only transfers the anger; it doesn't destroy it._

Dustil felt the words on the tip of his tongue. They were the truth; they were what Phineas, a recovering Sith, needed to hear. They were what a Jedi would say. They were what _he_ should say.

_Forgive, Padawan._

Instead he had nodded smartly, clenching his teeth together and exiting the city center. It was the only time he had ever ignored the soft murmur of the Cathar in his head.

Even now he was unwilling to admit both of the mayor's strongest points: that the city was growing more panicked and he was running out of time. And despite the sun and Jaron Vin talking contentedly beside him, he could feel the fear in Mikael as easily as he could see the extra security guards making rounds and patrolling the city gates.

"Tova! Are you home?" Vin called out as they walked in the door.

His host's daughter walked calm and demure out of the next room after a moment or so, though Dustil could tell from the bright pink flush in her cheeks that she had made a mad dash from Akiva's archives.

"Hello, Father," she murmured breathlessly, ignoring Dustil.

"More sensational reading material for the journalist, eh?" her father murmured, gesturing to the datapads she held in her hand.

Tova smiled, moving rudely in front of him to kiss her father on the cheek.

He felt something hard poking him in the thigh, and swiftly grabbed the datapad she was passing behind her back to him.

"It'll just be you and Tova for dinner this evening, Dustil," Vin called after him as he began down the hall. "I trust you two won't kill each other while I'm gone?"

"I'll try, Father," Tova replied. "Though your guest makes it difficult sometimes."

Dustil glanced over his shoulder, smirking at her.

"I'll keep my blaster with me just in case."

As soon as he was safely locked in Akiva Vin's archives, he sat back in the chair in front of the computer console, glancing over the datapad Tova had slipped him.

_I condensed and summarized Grandfather's history of the Jedi and Sith on Chael. There's never been a permanent settlement of Jedi here, which partly explains the lack of Force-users on official record. Chael has followed a pattern of one or two Jedi having a soft spot for the planet and sort of hanging around or moving in to watch over it. _

_Grandfather Akiva's recorded up to three predecessors, all of whom lived long lives but died in "accidents": _

_Jedi Haram Genni, who was found dead in his home after returning from an excursion. The cause of death was ruled to be burns from cooking._

_Fat chance_, Dustil thought grimly. More likely Genni had encountered Sith, battled, crawled back home and died of his injuries.

_Jedi Quinn Riut, who was actually an amateur miner for a while until he was found dead deep within a dried up part of his mine._

Probably a previous den of Sith. Riut had either been unlucky enough to wander into it; or had sought them out to try and destroy them.

_Jedi Alek Poll- here's the oldest recorded and the most interesting one. He sort of retired from Jedi life and became a tour guide. But on one of his excursions, he and a boy got separated from the group. When the authorities found them, the boy was dead, his wounds obviously from a lightsaber. Although Poll had no weapon on him, he was accused of the boy's murder and executed. This is on official record, though so far back that I'm not surprised it wasn't noticed._

Though he had nothing to go on other than his gut feelings and the general image of the Jedi Order, Dustil thought it more likely that Poll had gone to rescue the boy and encountered the same kind of trouble that killed his successors.

_Their purpose is pretty clear then, _he thought. _They're just more Jedi assassins..._

No, that didn't make sense. There was no record of them ever entering the city or attacking any Force-sensitives on the planet. They weren't actively seeking out Jedi; just killing the ones that happened to wander by.

_If they were assassins they would have made an attempt on me by now._

An irrational bout of fear overtook him for a moment, and he grasped for his weapons, taking comfort in his lightsaber against his chest and his blaster against his thigh.

Sooner or later, his luck was going to run out, and Dustil didn't like not knowing when that was going to be. He shook his head, going back to the datapad.

_Grandfather Akiva has no specific record of Sith- no names or dates or encounters with them. His research is mostly focused on the planet and why Sith or ancient Sith might want to be here. He mentioned something through a couple of his entries about how Chael is "in the perfect position" for something. I'm betting that something is recorded deeper in his archives, which still have to be unlocked. I'll leave that to you since you seem to know how to get around the whole Force-users only thing._

He smiled nervously again, even though she wasn't anywhere near him.

Akiva's next level of archives didn't give up their answers any easily than the first level had. Dustil tried to clear his mind and concentrate.

_The first one used 'Sith'ari', which was the subject of his research. This next level is more research, so maybe the next password is also something to do with ancient Sith history?_

Unfortunately, he was beginning to scrape the bottom of his well of Sith knowledge. Dustil folded his arms, rubbing his shoulder. The metal structure keeping his regenerating bone in place had finally been removed, but it occasionally swelled up or stiffened and took a few minutes to work out.

"Think you can lift a fork?" He glanced behind him to where Tova Vin stood in the doorway.

He sat up, wishing idly for a moment that the room wasn't so dark. He could barely see her.

"Now if this food kills you, I claim no responsibility," Tova murmured, setting the plate in front of him. "I'm not the galaxy's greatest cook."

"It's not that bad," he lied, trying to chew and swallow without tasting the bland and overcooked meal.

Good food would probably upset his stomach anyways, he reasoned; which wasn't used to anything other than rations and the swill he had been served at the Sith Academy.

Tova rolled her eyes, sidling her way onto half of the large chair he was sitting in.

"You're right, it's not that bad. In fact, it's horrible."

His host's daughter pushed the food to the side, leaning over the console with her arms folded and her head tilted to the side.

"Did you get any farther into Grandfather's archives?"

"No. It'll require…some more research."

He would have to visit Akiva Vin's meditation grove again, and hope that the old holocron-ghost would be able to give him some more hints. Sitting and staring at the console certainly wasn't going to tell him anything.

Tova nodded authoritatively, as if she knew exactly what he meant.

"I suppose you're specially trained because of your father's position in the fleet, right?"

_More like my father's position with a former Sith Lord._

"Yeah, something like that. I thought for a long time that he'd want me to join the fleet too," he added. "But…I guess he changed his mind."

He could still remember working on speeders with his father when he was young; even flying one once. Not really flying it himself, of course; just sitting on his father's lap with his hands on the controls while Captain Onasi did all the actual work.

Those days had been when he was _very_ young- back when all he had wanted to do was find out what the Fleet was and where it sent his dad, and have big important men like Saul Karath grip his shoulder and call him "soldier".

He suddenly felt very sorry for little Dustil. Poor kid couldn't have known that someday the Fleet would steal his father, and big important men like Saul Karath would attack and betray Telos.

"Where is your father anyways?" Dustil finally asked.

Tova brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, studying him. He hadn't thought grey eyes could be so bright or piercing.

"Visitation rights with my little sister," she finally replied. "She lives with my mother in Betuel."

"Your parents are divorced?"

"For maybe five or six years now," Tova replied, twirling a blonde curl around her finger distantly for a moment.

"Father's too much of a hard-nose sometimes. No fun, or at least that's the reason my mom gave. She took my little sister, but I was old enough to choose and I stayed partly for school and partly to keep my father company."

"I'm sure these mysterious archives had nothing to do with it either."

Tova grinned, and he liked the way she got a dimple far out on the left side of her face when she smiled.

"Maybe a little. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No." _At least, not yet._

"Well, no, I do," Dustil added, sighing. "But I don't…it's complicated."

Tova raised an eyebrow at him. "Either you do or you don't."

"I…guess I'll have a step-sibling sometime soon," he mumbled.

The thought didn't make him any less queasy than it had months ago when that smirking Doctor Eli Dathan had informed them in words that couldn't have been less plain.

_I should be beyond this by now, _he chastised himself. _I should be beyond getting grossed out at the thought of my father and some woman._

_I should be beyond being angry that that woman isn't my mother._

"You don't sound entirely happy about it," Tova said.

Dustil furrowed his brow, fishing for words that might explain the story of Revan, former Sith Lord and current Jedi Master, and Admiral Carth Onasi, Hero of the Republic.

Preferably a way to explain that wouldn't make him have to use words like 'love' or 'stepmother' or 'Sith Lord'.

"It's not that I'm angry or happy about it. It's just that she's not..." he trailed off.

It had been so easy to hate Revan, even before knowing who and what she was. In the beginning, she had _made_ it easy.

_"Calm down, Dustil," the woman with brown hair said, her concerned gaze on the man that he refused to call his father. "Carth is only trying to protect you."_

_"I don't need his protection," he snapped. "Not anymore. The Sith give me everything I need."_

And who the hell are you to call him Carth,_ he thought with a son's protective instinct he had thought he had forgotten._

_The answer was obvious, and his fingers twitched near his lightsaber._

_"You can't mean that," He had never heard his father's voice like that- pleading and begging like the prisoners he killed in the training rooms on a daily basis. "The Sith…they're evil, they took me away from you and your mother-"_

How can you stand there and talk about Mother with this Jedi standing next to you, Father?

_Dustil glared at the woman again, who returned his gaze without batting an eyelid. What she thought of his father was written all over her face. What she thought of Dustil was written in her stance, the way her hand was near her lightsaber in case it came to that._

_"They're…they're what took you away from me!" his father sputtered weakly, desperately._

No, not my father, _he reminded himself. _You are not my father; I will not use that as a pronoun.

_"No, they're not evil," he replied icily. Best to relieve the poor man of his delusions before he killed him. "The dark side is superior, and you…you were at war long before they came along."_

_He glared at the woman as he spoke of the dark side. She would realize it soon enough. He would take special care in killing her. Uthar would applaud him for it._

_"The Sith war to conquer, to rule the helpless," Dustil recognized the words so well; he had heard them growing up, told to him on bended knee before his father left, snapped in frustration to his mother when she'd been angry at his father leaving, repeated time and time again in school._

No, you are not my father, _he screamed at himself, trying to ignore the Force mercilessly taunting him in the pits of his stomach. _

_"I went to war for _you_, Dustil," his father continued, stubborn Republic ideals having replaced whatever brand of whinging parental pleading had been in his voice before. "For your freedom, and your future."_

Say something, _he pleaded, staring at the woman. _Say anything, give me another reason to kill him, to kill you, please…

_He had plenty of reason, plenty of justification. No one would blame him if he pulled out his lightsaber right now and jammed it down his father's lying throat._

No, you are not my father, _he shrieked_, why can't I remember that now?

Say something, _he begged, forgetting Sith pride and superiority and allowing his naked gaze to rest on the brown-haired woman, in her direct hazel eyes. _Force, please don't let me fall for this stuff again…

_But the woman was silent, watching him expectantly._

_"Heh," Dustil scoffed nervously, "I…don't believe you."_

_And he knew it was too late, that the chance had passed. He would never kill his father._

He didn't hate her anymore, but the reason had nothing to do with forgiveness or abandoning a kid's resentment towards a step-parent. Although she would never be his mother, she had very quickly become his Master.

And it was much easier to ignore his father's feelings about her when Beautiful (or sometimes Gorgeous) had Jedi lessons to impart to him and he could replace the nicknames with "Master".

Dustil didn't think he could ignore them for much longer, however. Not when there was a kid that was half-Onasi and half-Revan due in a couple months.

"Makes me kind of glad my father never remarried," Tova remarked, smirking. "Not like any other woman would take him anyways."

He laughed along with her, glad for a break in the tension.

"Hey, I happen to like your father. Enough that I'm starting to feel pretty guilty about letting you in here."

Her hand patted his back.

"If he ever finds out, he'll be angrier with me than with you. He thinks I 'harass and take advantage' of you," Tova said, imitating her father.

"I might not mind being taken advantage of." The words slipped out before he could modify them to something more romantic.

"You're flirting with me, aren't you?" Tova murmured, smirking like it was the start of a great expose on the real lives of government workers.

Her hand was still on his back, fingers moving gently against his spine.

"If you have to ask, I'm not doing a very good job," he added with a broken laugh, standing up quickly.

Tova leaned over, picking something up off the floor. "Want to explain this?"

Dustil glanced over his shoulder, realizing the sudden lightness of his cloak and the empty pocket near his chest before he even noticed his lightsaber lying flat in her hands.

_Don't panic, _he thought, _she'll know immediately if you panic._

"It's a lightsaber."

Tova frowned, turning slightly to inspect it. "I _know_. You said only Force-users can have these."

"That's true," Dustil murmured distractedly, reaching for his weapon.

His host's daughter held it out of his reach, batting his hand away.

"Then why do you have one?" she pressed.

_Come on, Dustil, you used to be good at bluffing. _

"It's kind of a souvenir from the last Sith I caught," he answered calmly. "I normally wouldn't have it, but I didn't have a chance to turn it over to the proper authorities before this investigation began."

Tova eyed him warily. "What's the difference between a Sith's weapon and a Jedi's weapon?"

Dustil held out his hand, and she reluctantly put his weapon back into it.

"Don't move," he murmured, attempting to make a big show of figuring out how to turn it on. He deliberately turned his lightsaber upside down, extending it and acting like he was fumbling to turn it right side up.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tova jump as the red blade lit up the room, turning her blond hair a light shade of orange and her pink lips even brighter.

"Only Sith have red ones," Dustil explained.

_And former Sith who want to forget but know they can't._

Tova nodded, letting out an anxious sigh as he retracted it and replaced the weapon safely in his cloak, sitting back down next to her.

"That didn't scare the fearless journalist, did it?" Dustil said, feeling her arm trembling slightly where it was touching his.

"No," she said defensively, glancing sideways at him. "Just brought all this a little close to home."

He grasped her hand where it rested near his knee, thinking of how many times he had woken up in the very early morning to find marks in his neck from where he had fallen asleep over the console's control panel; to have to move the blonde hair from over Tova's eyes and gently prod her back to her own room.

"So what happened to your mother?" Tova asked.

_In the distance he could hear the old bell of his colony's school ringing. Dustil sighed. He'd be late now no matter what._

"You really know how to kill a mood," he laughed, trying to change the subject. "Here I was, all ready to move in for a kiss, and you start in with your questions."

Tova raised an eyebrow, squeezing his hand.

"If you want that kiss, or to keep holding my hand like this, you'll have to answer at least a few of my questions."

_It seemed like everyone in the colony was late today; the streets were quiet, and although he could see the normal groups of people going about their lives, all he could hear was the ringing of the bell._

"Ask me something else," he said hoarsely, feeling his throat go dry and struggling for saliva to fix it.

"Why?" Tova continued, her eyes narrowed and calculating. "Did things end badly between her and your father? Did she do something against the Republic-"

He found that there was no other way to stop it; the nightmare was going to come whether he told her or not. His hand went limp and he felt his shoulders slump.

Every time it came, he felt just as he had when the nightmare had been reality; that he had no control over it or anything else.

"She died."

_Dustil was about halfway across the large square, the doors of his school within sight, when he noticed that all the people milling around had stopped to stare and point up at the sky._

_He stopped too, despite that bell still ringing incessantly a few meters away, and stared up at the sky. At first he couldn't see anything different. Telos's sky looked as blue and clear as ever. He noticed a few red and orange dots massing on the horizon, some far off black lines of fighters practicing formations._

_The broken scab on his elbow itched and burned, and he reached to rub it absent-mindedly. Something ached slightly in the back of his head too, around his neck, though he couldn't pin a sensation to it._

_Dustil studied the sky again, and it took a moment for him to realize that the dots weren't growing because there were more of them. They were growing larger because they were coming towards-_

_There was only one explanation for what happened next, and it was that whatever had been aching in the back of his head had exploded._

_Dustil found himself thrown to the ground, rubble and dirt all around him. He looked foolishly for his school bag before noticing that his pawing hands had blood on them from where his scalp had been cut open. _

_The bell was no longer ringing, and half the school was on fire. The people who had just been standing calmly and pointing at the sky a moment ago were running and screaming, some lying crumpled on the ground, motionless._

_Dustil struggled to dig himself out of the rocks, watching endless red and orange dots pound the surface from the sky._

I have to get out of here, I have to get back home-

_His leg was twisted and sprained from where a piece of rubble had fallen on it, and it ached horribly when he tried to stand up._

_Men and woman ran around him, shrieking and disappearing into large fireworks of earth and rock._

_He couldn't think of anything but that he needed to get home; he would be safe at home. But he couldn't stand up and walk or run. Dustil began to panic, his heart racing against his heaving lungs._

_"Help, help me!" he tried to yell to the people running past him, finding that he was too scared to be louder than the endless roaring and screaming around him._

_The earth vibrated with every explosion, and his ears hurt from all the noise and confusion._

_He saw the black lines of the fighters coming towards him._

It's the Republic, it's the Fleet, I know it is_, he thought, feeling a surge of strength. _We're under attack from someone, the Sith or the Mandalorians, and Father's coming-

_The fighters did not swoop in an artful circle over the ruins of the colony, heading back towards the sky. Instead red fire began pouring out of them into buildings and people._

_Dustil ducked, covering his head and burrowing back into the rocks he had just crawled his way out of._

_He closed his eyes and tried to cover his ears, but he could see men in pieces and houses tumbling to the ground. He could hear his friends screaming._

_No, that was wrong, his brain thought idly. He couldn't see or hear these things; but he somehow _knew_ that they were happening._

I have to get out of here, _Dustil though wildly, biting his lip and trying not to scream. _I have to get back home…

'_Home' made pain like no explosion or wound could give go coursing through his body._

'_Home' made him see his mother, Morgana._

'_Home' made him see his mother, Morgana, dead._

_He could not only see his mother dead, but he also knew it was happening, had happened, would happen. And there would be nothing he could do about it._

_Dustil forgot being brave, being a soldier, being a man, and he began screaming._

_"Father!" he yelled over and over. His father would come and save him, his father could stop his mother from being hurt even if Dustil couldn't._

_Dustil opened his eyes. The square was charred and smoking, and most of the people still in it weren't moving._

_"Father!" he kept yelling hysterically, trying to crawl out of the rocks again._

Mother's dying, she's hurt; where are you, Father?

_Men in uniforms- not the familiar red, gold, and black of the Republic, but shiny and hard and white- came stomping into the square._

_He paid no attention to them, and kept yelling for his father. He paid no attention when they roughly yanked him up out of the rubble and began treating his wounds. He paid no attention when one shook him violently._

_"Your father's not coming, boy."_

_He saw his mother again, cold and lifeless somewhere. _

_And Dustil stopped yelling for his father._

He shook himself awake, realizing that there was sweat on the back of his neck and in his palm. He let go of Tova's hand.

"She died," he repeated, glancing up at her.

Tova Vin's face was red as though she were embarrassed, even though she had no way of knowing what his memories contained beyond 'she died'.

"Let me show you the entries where Grandfather Akiva was talking about Chael's position."

His host's daughter sat up, punching buttons on the console furiously.

Dustil shivered, leaning forward to stare at the screen. "You're right, he keeps mentioning the planet's position, but he never says what it would be good for-"

"I'm sorry, Dustil," Tova broke in suddenly. "Tact isn't something I've learned yet."

She looked unnatural with fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Dustil grinned at her.

"Don't worry. You can make it up to me by summarizing the next batch of archive entries."

Tova rolled her eyes at him. "You know, you'd be here for years without me. Just so you remember that."

He opened up Akiva's archives, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head. The words it was suggesting would get him into deeper trouble, and he was already in enough letting her sit here next to him.

_You know, the years might not be so bad if they were all around here with you._


	18. Chapter 18

"You're kind of treading on my heels, A9," Dustil murmured to the tattered assault droid behind him. If the droid could breathe, it would have been down Dustil's neck.

"Understood, sir. Adjusting proximity."

He didn't even know why he had brought the damn thing. The rain pounding down on its metallic skin was loud enough to echo through the forests, and the sound of his mechanical feet stomping over the wet underbrush gave the impression that a whole herd of rusty assault droids were coming, instead of a soaking wet Jedi Knight and the terse A9.

_Great, Onasi. Couldn't have picked better weather, _he berated himself nastily, holding his robe over his head. _You might as well have waited for the next hailstorm._

He had even known it was raining before heading out in the direction of Akiva Vin's meditation grove. The distant patter of rain had at first been so rhythmic and even that Dustil had totally missed the knocking at the door early this morning.

Tova laid draped half on his shoulder and half on the console. Dustil had sat up, noticing the lack of sunlight in the room. It was definitely morning, but the skies had morphed to dark cobalt rather than their usual pale blue.

Tova opened her eyes briefly, and he waved her off as he rose and cracked the door open a few centimeters.

Jaron Vin stood in the doorway. He smiled apologetically.

"I seem to have a bad habit of interrupting you."

"Not at all, Jaron," Dustil murmured, slipping out of the room and firmly pulling the door shut behind him.

"Seen enough of that room, I suppose," Vin chuckled. "Though all the work must be agreeing with you. You look ten times better than you did when you arrived a few months ago."

Dustil ran a hand through his hair- having grown out and trimmed back to its normal brown- and over his smooth cheeks.

"If a disguise is no longer necessary, may I assume you've gotten quite a bit farther in your investigation?" Vin glanced around for a moment. "You may speak freely, of course. Can't seem to find Tova this morning."

He forced himself not to glance back over his shoulder towards the archive room.

"No specifics as of yet- no names or exact numbers," Dustil replied. "We suspect they're holed up in an abandoned bronze mine not too far from the city. From what I've seen of the mines, they have ample room to hide or get away if they needed to, and they have the capability for hyperspace communications. They have no immediate agenda within the city or even with the planet, though Akiva's archives suggest that they've chosen Chael for a reason."

The Jedi Knight paused, rubbing his neck.

"They've been here hiding for ages, though. And there's evidence to support that they played a role in your grandfather's death as well as the death of the Jedi before him-"

Vin gripped Dustil's shoulder for a moment. "I can't tell you what a comfort it is to have you here, Dustil. My fears may be unnatural since there are certainly no Force-sensitives in this house, but a knowledgeable young man like yourself makes me feel much more at ease about hoarding the last remains of an old Jedi."

It was an odd feeling to have guilt over hiding the fact he was a Jedi rather than the fact that he had once been a Sith.

"I loved my grandfather, but if his research got him killed, as I suspected for many years it did…I'm glad he's dead," Both his host's voice and grip became unnaturally rigid. "He no longer poses a threat to my family or my children."

_There is no deception, there is no deceit._

"I'm, uh, going to need to borrow your droid again, Jaron," Dustil said, clearing his throat. "The rest of Akiva's archives might finally answer why the Sith are hiding here, and I think I can find out how to get into them at your grandfather's grove."

Vin nodded, releasing Dustil's shoulder.

"Certainly. You'll need your documentation from the mayor's office, of course. Security has become somewhat tight at the city gates." His host sighed. "The fear that has plagued the Jedi and those related to them is beginning to spread."

_No, it's not fear that's got me trudging through this muck-filled forest. Alone. For the second time._

It was the knowledge that, although he wasn't afraid quite yet, others were. It was how he liked Jaron. It was how he liked (well, more than liked) Tova. And the quicker he defeated the Sith, the sooner he would be able to stop lying to them.

It was mostly guilt.

That, and a dogged sense of determination to figure all of this out before Revan got back and declared him a failure.

_They've been here for a long time, Master, _he began practicing in his head.

_Oh yeah? How long?_

_Nearly a century, _he added, quickly doing the math in his head. _They've murdered all four known Jedi protectors of this planet when those Jedi wandered too close to them and their plans. They aren't more garden variety assassins like the ones that have popped up in the past four years._

He could just see Revan characteristically folding her arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow.

_Then why are they here?_

_The mine they're in has the capability for hyperspace communication. I bet they're taking orders from somewhere else._

_Where else?_

His imagination created her as unforgiving and direct as he remembered.

_Well…of that I'm not entirely sure yet, but all of it has something to do with ancient Sith._

That, he was sure, wouldn't be a satisfactory answer.

Dustil pushed his way through the trees. He had already cut a path here when he had visited before, but the rain had pushed down hundreds of new branches and vines to hang and drip water in his face.

Akiva's grove looked as dead as its owner, dampened and darkened by the storm and the green moss that was growing up its short pillars turning black.

He shook himself off, crossing quickly to the holocron stone and forcing both Codes out between his chattering teeth.

He spoke them so fast that both Sith and Jedi mantras began to run together, and nothing happened for a moment. Dustil sighed, wondering if he would have to recite them again.

Finally the image of Akiva Vin flickered on before him, barely visible through the mists of the rain.

_Welcome back, young Jedi, _the ghost said cordially, as if they were having tea.

"I've begun reading your archives, Akiva-"

_I am glad to hear it. My research is invaluable to the Order, and it would not do to see it fall into the bottomless depths of history._

The wind picked up, and Dustil felt colder. He tried burrowing into his robes, but they were just as wet and cold as the air around him.

"What can you tell me about the three Jedi who came before you? Genni, Riut, and Poll?"

Akiva Vin's ghost sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully.

_They overstepped bounds they had no knowledge of, young Jedi. They died defending Chael from a threat they did not see coming._

_Had they the benefit of my research, _the ghost added, _they might not have perished._

Dustil wondered if the specter/recording knew that, despite his "invaluable research", he had been killed just as easily.

_Genni was the first to discover there were Sith on Chael at all, though he did not get a chance to pass that knowledge on to the Jedi Council before his murder. His Padawan Riut suspected his Master's death was not an accident. He returned to the planet years later after completing his training and took up a profession he had practiced before becoming a Jedi- mining. It was he who wrote on the attributes of the planet that might attract Sith to hide on it-_

"Which are?" Dustil interrupted.

The ghost smiled benevolently.

_You know something of this already, young Jedi. It all flows back to the eternal question: what do the Sith desire, and why does our existence stand in their way?_

"They…desire to find the Sith'ari. To be like the Sith'ari?"

His hair whipped soggy and wet across his forehead.

_Fulfilling the destiny of the Sith'ari is only one of their goals, _Akiva murmured dismissively. _Ages ago, the Sith existed as a species-_

"Insect-like creatures, dark, blood red, and terrifying," Dustil finished, instantly remembering Akiva's visions and dreams.

_You _have _been reading my archives, young Jedi. Well done._

"But they don't exist anymore," Dustil added.

Akiva Vin raised his eyebrow dramatically.

_So far as we know. _

He struggled to tie the two together: Akiva's theory that true Sith still existed, and the Sith hiding on the planet, attacking no one except Jedi that came close to discovering them.

"All right," Dustil began skeptically. "Assuming true Sith still exist, why haven't they ever attacked the Jedi or the Republic?"

_You assume that they haven't, _Akiva replied, a sly smirk at the corner of his ghostly lips. _Not all instigators go down in infamy, young Jedi. Some do not appear at all. Events are set in motion by the puppeteers, not the puppets._

He heard A9 say something off in the distance, but it was muffled by the rain and the droid made no other noise.

"They couldn't have existed for this long without anyone knowing of them."

_Quite right, _Akiva agreed distractedly. _You know what you must do, young Jedi-_

"Read the archives, I know, I know," Dustil muttered, sitting back on his knees and sighing in frustration.

He was cold, wet, and had only discovered a ridiculous theory that true Sith hadn't died out and had somehow been attacking the Jedi and the Republic for ages from behind the scenes.

_Wherever the hell those scenes might be._

He tried to simplify it all out in his head: True Sith, attacking from wherever they were hidden without anyone knowing. Modern Sith, hiding out in the caves of Mikael and taking orders-

Dustil scoffed, his voice echoing off the stone pillars.

_Master, I know where they're taking orders from. _Revan would nod approvingly.

_And where's that?_

_Well…okay, not exactly "where", but I know from who. They're communicating with ancient Sith, true Sith. They haven't died out after all._

And then Revan would drop out of her iron-willed Jedi Master persona and proceed to laugh at him until there were tears rolling out of her hazel eyes.

There was nothing to support the theory, not unless the rest of Akiva's archives gave specific locations and instances where hidden Sith were responsible for galactic events.

And even if all that panned out, it _still_ didn't answer the question of what whoever was in charge wanted, if the true Sith were trying to take over the galaxy or kill off the Jedi, or some other kind of lofty goal.

Dustil immediately dismissed it, pushing himself up from the floor of the stone structure.

But what if it happened to be true? What if the more important issue wasn't what these minor Dark Jedi might mean to Chael, but what the mythical true Sith might mean to the Order and the Republic?

_So which one am I supposed to pay attention to? The Sith that _might _exist and _might _have a specific location in the galaxy? Or the Sith that are here-_

He froze.

Amid the pounding of the rain, the loud drips of water forming puddles on the stairs and the small showers running off the edges of the stone structure, he heard things that wouldn't have echoed over the natural sounds of the weather, or that could be heard by any non-Force-sensitive ear.

He heard adrenaline that they had found the Jedi, at last. He heard elation and pride that the Jedi had been no match for them. He heard anger and frustration at how the Jedi had eluded them.

His luck had run out. A Sith _was_ here.

Dustil spun around, slamming his attacker up against one of the pillars and extending his lightsaber to their throat.

Smooth and trembling hands- far too soft to be the hands of a Sith-grasped his feebly, trying to keep him from moving his blade any closer.

Even with some of her blonde curls having come loose from the ponytail behind her and dripping wet over her wide and terrified eyes, Dustil could recognize their grey color.

Tova Vin squirmed slightly under his arm, staring at his lightsaber and panting heavily.

His first reaction was to immediately lower his weapon. His second was to keep her pinned against the pillar, unable to get rid of the rest of his aggression that quickly.

"Don't be angry," she finally said, blowing a puff of air up against her face, trying to move the strands of hair from in front of her eyes.

"What…" Dustil breathed. "The hell do you think you're doing?"

She pulled out a datapad, holding it up so he could make out the identical signature of 'Mayor Phineas of Mikael'; forged and copied from his own.

"You leave your things lying around too much," she replied softly. "And you and Father talk far too loudly. And you should program A9 to alert you if anyone approaches, even his owners."

Somehow he managed to realize that he was still holding her up against the pillar, and he slowly backed off, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't be angry?" He tried to keep his voice deathly calm; the way Revan got when she was upset, the way Juhani got when she had spoken to him about the dark side. "Do you realize how much danger you've just put yourself in?"

Tova frowned stubbornly, shoving past him and taking a few steps into the structure.

"My father and I have been in danger since you stepped into our house," She sounded much more controlled than he was, despite not being able to use the Force. "Why did you lie to us?"

He scrambled for more lies, some way to backtrack and negate everything his host's daughter had just seen, but nothing came to mind.

"I know why you couldn't tell my father the truth," Tova continued without waiting for an answer. "He'd never have let you within ten meters of Grandfather's archives if he knew you were a Jedi."

"But you had no reason to lie to me!" she snapped, whirling on him.

There was the anger.

"Your father didn't want you to know any of this-"

"I'm not an idiot, Dustil," Tova interrupted witheringly. "Father can try all he wants to keep me from knowing anything about Jedi or Sith, but I'm not the naïve little bookworm he thinks I am. I've been accepted at Coruscant's most prestigious school for journalism. They didn't take me for my good looks- I'm _trained_ to root out secrets and acts of deception. I knew it, from the moment I met you."

"Knew what?" Dustil muttered, ignoring the fact that he was standing in Akiva Vin's meditation grove holding a lightsaber and the fact that he was a Jedi couldn't have been more obvious.

"I imagine the Jedi Order's low on personnel at the moment, but they really ought to have sent someone who isn't the worst liar in the galaxy," she replied, putting a hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow at him. "Admiral Onasi's son becoming a government investigator for some backwater furniture plant like Chael? You could have at least used a different name or pretended you were sent from the Republic."

There was the pride.

"And even ignoring your father's fame," she continued like she was giving him a lecture and Akiva's meditation grove was just an ordinary classroom. "Any half-wit that has access to a holofeed knows that Sith are deadly and even the best of the Jedi go down when facing them. Traipsing around in the wilds near areas where the Sith might be hiding as often as you do would be suicide if you really weren't Force-sensitive, no matter how much 'training' or knowledge you possessed before hand."

"You got into Grandfather Akiva's archives, which only a Force-user can do," Tova added, holding up fingers to illustrate her points. "A lightsaber as a souvenir? Please. You obviously know how to use one without killing yourself. And only bounty hunters and other scum like that keep reminders of people they've murdered."

"And even if I hadn't known any of that before following you here, I just watched you somehow communicate with my grandfather's ghost. You haven't got a leg to stand on," Tova finished, folding her arms in front of her triumphantly.

There was the elation, laughing at him.

He felt like shaking her. For a moment he wished she was Force-sensitive just so she could grasp how he was feeling.

Dustil grabbed her arm, wrenching her towards him.

"These Sith aren't just a couple of nobodies hiding out in the wilds. They aren't ancient enemies that exist only in stories and archives and research. They've evaded the official forces of this planet. They've been murdering Jedi on Chael for decades. They killed your great-grandfather."

Tova's eyes only narrowed more, like physically tightening her face might protect her against the truth of what he was saying.

"They killed some Bothan spies and took a few hostage; along with some very important information they were carrying to help the Order. Look," Dustil said, shoving his swollen arm in her face. "Two of them stood on my arm and listened to me scream until they broke the bones."

Tova returned his steely gaze. "I'm not afraid, Dustil."

"You should be, Tova. You don't understand-"

"Then explain it to me-"

"No! I'm not here to educate you or give you fodder for some stupid newsfeed-"

"Wait one damn minute," she interrupted, shoving him off of her. "I did _not _follow you out here for a story-"

"Don't play dumb, sister. You're one of the most intelligent and obnoxious girls I've ever met. You obviously knew all the risks and yet you're _still_ out here. Why else than to get the dirt on Dustil Onasi, son of the Admiral, secret Jedi on Chael-"

There was the frustration, in the way she suddenly whirled around to face him.

"I _like_ you, you stupid bantha!" Tova snapped, loose strands of hair flinging water towards him with the force of her words. "I was afraid you'd get hurt…or killed…"

His host's daughter trailed off abruptly, seeing the flaw in her argument.

"Or something."

_I should be angry, I am angry_, he kept telling himself, pacing back and forth slowly between where Tova stood, dripping and defeated, and the stairs that led out of the stone structure.

"Just 'like', huh?"

_No, you idiot, you're angry, she's found out your secret and put herself in unreasonable danger, she's a threat-_

Tova folded her arms, blushing furiously. She had been so calm and composed a moment ago when facing him as a triumphant journalist. The change was almost a complete one-eighty, except for the stubborn look in her eyes.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Jedi." she snapped.

_She's right for once, stop smirking, you're angry, she's found out your secret and put herself in danger-_

Dustil hooked his lightsaber back to his belt, walking back towards her. "You could have gotten killed-"

"So could you. It doesn't stop you from chasing Sith all by yourself."

"I'm a _Jedi_. That's what we do."

"Well, this is what I do. When I care about someone."

He flicked two strands of hair out of her eyes, and she blinked at the spray of water.

"So it's 'care' now."

_No, Onasi, you're getting in way over your head. You're angry, she's found out your secret-_

Tova pulled a damp leaf off of his shoulder, flinging her hand around awkwardly trying to get it to let go of her fingers. "You're trying to get me to say it."

"You followed me here so you could, didn't you?" he replied without missing a beat.

Her hands touched his arms in a new way, almost reverently, like he was no longer just Dustil Onasi, the dirty and irritating government officer; and to touch Dustil Onasi, the Jedi Knight, would be the worst kind of indiscretion.

"You're a Jedi," she murmured, looking up at him. Dustil nodded.

"You're in love with me," he said, wiping rain off her cheek.

Her fingers rested somewhere above his elbows.

"Close enough."

_No, you're a Jedi Knight, you're angry-_

Dustil kissed Tova.

His indiscretion seemed to negate hers, and she threw her arms around his neck, leaning into him. For a second he thought of Selene, feeling her murder all over again; the last girl he had kissed, stolen in the dueling rooms on Korriban.

He decided that freely kissing a girl in the rain as a Jedi Knight was infinitely more preferable.

"It's been too long since I did that," he murmured, still barely touching her nose. His host's daughter laughed softly.

"Why's that?"

"We're not exactly encouraged to get steady girlfriends." Dustil pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Jedi are in danger no matter where they go or what they do nowadays. You can't follow me everywhere."

"Now that I know you're a Jedi, I won't have to," Tova replied, leaning over and wringing out her ponytail.

"I thought you said you knew before you came out here."

"I did. I just, you know, wanted to make _absolutely _sure," she replied, giving him a sideways smile.

She walked around the flooring with the Codes engraved in them; running her fingers over them and peering into the stone like her gaze could make her grandfather appear again.

"Do you think what my grandfather said was true? About those…bug-like ancient Sith not having gone extinct?"

_If it is, there's absolutely no way to prove it. Unless we could figure out where they might be._

"I think it's possible that more devoted followers of their ideal exist. The creatures themselves though? I doubt it. Whoever they are, I think they're the bigger threat here."

He watched her inquisitive eyes roam over the grove and he was willing to bet that she would know the right questions to ask Akiva; how to work around the vagueries of an old Jedi.

"You can't tell your father."

Tova stood up straight, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and becoming the tenacious journalist again with only a raised eyebrow. "What would possess me to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know; if I happen to do something to irritate you in the near future."

"Even if you hadn't just kissed me, Dustil, I still wouldn't betray your secret. I'm not one of those tabloid rats; I know what kinds of odds the Jedi are facing and that staying hidden is imperative. I'm not going to do anything that'll give you away."

"That," Dustil replied. "And you wouldn't want your father to kick me out or anything."

She smiled, grasping the hood of his robe and pulling it over his head. The water that had been collecting in it poured over his flushed face.

"Right. That too."

Dustil listened carefully for the soft murmur of the Cathar or the low, straightforward soprano of Revan; for some kind of sign that he was making a mistake by gripping the hand of Tova Vin and stepping back into the forests.

He heard nothing but the patter of the rain and the squishing of the mud and leaves beneath his feet.


	19. Chapter 19

Katrina wondered at first why her legs weren't moving as quickly as she wanted them to. She pushed herself up, finding that it required an enormous amount of effort and breath that she didn't quite have.

Slightly understandable- she was definitely a lot heavier than the last time she had had to sprint through a smoke-filled room.

_For Force's sake, _Jolee's_ already halfway down the hall. _

Dathan grasped her arm, pulling her the rest of the way up and continuing in the direction that Bastila, her Twi'lek pursuer, and Jolee had all run.

The hallway ended on a decrepit looking balcony where two speeders were parked. The figure in dark robes- lithe and athletic and obviously Bastila- leapt into one, fumbling with the controls just long enough so that the Twi'lek could crawl into the back seat as it took off.

_That one must have been hers._

Jolee skidded to a halt, watching the speeder rock unsteadily into the distance.

"Bastila driving something mechanical…an odd sight if ever I saw one," he murmured, already hurrying towards the other speeder.

_This one, _Katrina thought, eying the cache of weapons thrown in the back seat, _must have been the Twi'lek's._

Her hand ran somewhat begrudgingly over her stomach (which was too large to slide between the controls and the slim seat).

She exhaled in frustration, shoving Dathan towards the driver's seat.

"Follow her." The doctor glanced uncertainly at her for a second, but took off after Bastila all the same.

Katrina kept her eyes on the wavering speeder a kilometer or so ahead, barely dodging signs and buildings as its occupants fought for control.

The infamous Coruscanti traffic wasn't heavy in the Southern Underground, though Dathan was somehow managing to get in the way of every speeder that passed them. Disgruntled aliens and pilots flew past them in a blur of Basic curses and mechanical backfire.

She felt two waves of nausea; her own and the baby's.

"I think you might be the worst pilot in the galaxy," she snapped, dodging a piece of refuse tossed at them by another angry driver.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be Carth Onasi," Dathan snapped back. "Your friend up there's not much better."

"She's got a bounty hunter trying to kill her!"

"My passenger's making killing her look more and more appealing!"

The two small figures pressed together in the front seat of the speeder ahead of them moved back and forth like they were either dancing to music or punching each other. Bastila's speeder made a violent right turn, like the Jedi had been trying to fling her attacker out, but the Twi'lek lunged towards Bastila and the speeder plunged downward.

It tore through signs and banners like it was falling through a heavy canopy of trees, finally righting itself back near the docks.

"_Don't get yourself in over your head, Revan"…Right. Next time I hear that lecture I'm going to remind her of her suicidal speeder flight through the Southern Underground._

The two continued to fight for control, even as Katrina watched two headtails whirl around and press a blaster up against the Jedi's head. Eventually the speeder slowed, hovering in front of a small freighter where a crew of five or six others stood on the landing platform, each holding their own weapon.

"This doesn't smell like Sith. Smells like something else," Jolee said, tearing off the Iridorian armor in the back seat.

"Is that good or bad for us?" Dathan murmured. The old Jedi didn't answer.

Neither the bounty hunter nor his crew had noticed Katrina and her companions in the Twi'lek's speeder yet- they were more concerned with the hooded figure she knew was Bastila, who sat completely still in the driver's seat of the speeder as the Twi'lek made violent motions towards the ship with the barrel of his weapon.

She tried to reach out to Bastila and tell her that they were coming to help, but she was out of practice with that too and could only pick up that the Jedi was more irritated at having been caught than worried about what would happen to her.

"Pull up right behind them," Katrina murmured, pointing. "We'll have to be quick, or else they'll have her on the ship before we can do anything about it. Bastila's not stupid enough to-"

The hooded figure exploded out of the speeder, lightsaber drawn and deftly absorbing the flood of blaster fire the bounty hunter's crew began to unleash on her.

_Well. Apparently she's also forgotten the "Think before you act, Revan" lecture._

Dathan managed to pull the speeder up to the landing platform with only minor damage- the side scraped noisily against the platform and gently bumped into the speeder in front of it.

Jolee was already vaulting out of it, an awkward grunt as he hit the surface the only indication that he wasn't as spry as he used to be.

She wriggled her way out of the seat, crawling over Dathan and pulling out her lightsaber, having lost nothing but a little dignity.

"More Jedi!" one of the Twi'lek's crew members, a greasy looking human, called out; pointing as if the rest of the crew wasn't able to tell for themselves.

"Kill the others! Take only the Mandalorian!" the Twi'lek barked, maneuvering between Bastila's strikes.

_Mandalorian?_

She wasn't quite sure if she had heard Dathan say it or had only thought it in the same tone of puzzlement and surprise.

The bodies of the port authority security force lay still and scorched around the door that led out to the Southern Underground. She wondered idly for a moment if her own ship was still safe.

Though Bastila's face was still hidden by the robes she wore, Katrina could see the familiar double bladed lightsaber, whirling like a flaming wall of yellow towards the bounty hunter and his crew.

There was little she could do in the fight physically. She hung back, deflecting any blaster fire that came her way and using the Force to knock some of the crew off their feet or send their blasters sliding across the landing platform.

The baby she temporarily knew only as "Mommy" kicked painfully up against her rib.

_Don't worry. I'm just as itching to fight someone as you are._

She didn't like not being in the thick of things where she belonged; where her usually quick reflexes and mastery of her weapon could quickly decide the outcome of a battle.

_What on earth are you doing down here?_

Bastila's nonchalant query startled her for a moment, considering that the Jedi herself was twirling violently towards the Twi'lek, roaring like the effort was putting her into a frenzy.

_I could ask you the same question, _Katrina replied grimely, stepping neatly out of the way of another Twi'lek that barreled towards her, underestimated his momentum, and toppled over the landing platform towards the ground kilometers below.

Jolee was back in his element without the Iridorian armor to weigh him down, though his Jedi robes hung damp and heavy from being locked underneath the armor for so long. The greasy human Katrina had temporarily dubbed "Captain Obvious" lunged towards the old man with a vibroblade.

Katrina watched Jolee slam his foot into Captain Obvious's stomach, knocking him out cold with the hilt of his lightsaber. She felt genuinely sorry for whatever Sith might have wandered alone and isolated into the Shadowlands to try and kill the Jedi.

Dathan managed to take out one crew member and spent the rest of the fight hovering around her, never moving more than one or two meters away.

The blaster fire paused momentarily as Katrina saw that Bastila had brought the Twi'lek down to his knees and put a large distance between the bounty hunter and his weapon. The Jedi's lightsaber glowed underneath the Twi'lek's white throat.

"Going to kill me, Jedi scum?" the bounty hunter's voice wavered.

"No. I'm going to do something much worse," the Jedi replied. Katrina's lightsaber lowered, and she exchanged a glance with Jolee.

_And the "Don't overreact or give in to your anger, Revan" lecture? What the hell happened to that?_

Bastila's blade was dangerously close to the Twi'lek's sensitive headtail, and his face scrunched up in anticipation of the pain.

"Go back and tell your employer than he's getting soft." Katrina could see the lower half of the Jedi's face, and a small smile played on the edge of her lips. "If he wants me, he'll have to do better than sending half-witted bounty hunters to make loud, messy entrances into apartment buildings."

The Twi'lek's eyes darted back and forth like there might be a tangible alternative to doing what Bastila suggested lying around on the landing platform.

The Jedi raised her lightsaber above her head threateningly. The bounty hunter scurried out from under her, collecting his weapon and stumbling wildly towards his ship. The remaining crew members ran to board it, though not without one of them tripping over a well-placed foot from Jolee.

Katrina and her companions watched until the ship had taken off and disappeared into the labyrinth that was Coruscant's skyline.

"You all right?" Dathan murmured breathlessly.

"If I start to get a case of the vapors from all the excitement, Doctor, you'll be the first to know."

He ignored her sarcasm and walked over to check the condition of the fallen port authority officers.

Bastila stood panting for a moment, her lightsaber glowing at her side. The Jedi was wrapped in long robes of brown and black, and Katrina could only see her forearms and the lower half of her face.

She could feel quite easily the Jedi's sense of personal triumph, and wondered what was so great about outmatching a few bounty hunters.

Jolee walked over to join them, shaking out a slight limp in his foot. "Never have I met a being that took credits to kill another being and had more grey matter than a kinrath pup."

"They didn't want me dead, though your comparison is otherwise accurate," Bastila replied, reaching back to pull the hood of her robe down.

_Your jaw is hanging open, _the Jedi added, amused._ At least try to contain your shock._

Bastila's hair was now a faint, dishwatery blonde. The color didn't work well with the Jedi's pale skin, making her look washed out and older than she really was. Her right ear was torn in two, as though there had once been an earring there and someone had ripped it straight out. Underneath her robes was the unmistakable shell of Mandalorian armor.

"You look like a dueling ring veteran," Katrina commented.

"Unfortunately, I'm trying to look like a Mandalorian. I suppose it isn't working very well anymore."

"Revan," Bastila began, staring at her stomach. "You're…you're…"

Katrina raised her eyebrows at the Jedi, who, for once in her life, had run out of things to say. "Fatter?"

Bastila smirked, hooking her lightsaber back onto her belt. "Had I known, I might have congratulated Carth."

"You saw Carth?"

"On Telos. You'll be happy to hear that the Sith threat there is gone, though I arrived too late to be of any help."

"How is the kid?" Jolee murmured. "Still full of piss and vinegar and a tendency to overmoralize?"

"Carth was…well, to say the least, very irritated that I couldn't tell him anything about your whereabouts other than that you were alive," the Jedi replied, her gaze going over Dathan appraisingly; frowning like the doctor reminded her of Carth. "Hmph. Said he was beginning to think we had 'invented our bond' just to 'shut him up'. Bloody impatient man."

"Care to explain the get-up?" Dathan interrupted in a very no-nonsense sort of way; the bland kind of medical drone Katrina only heard every trimester.

"Bastila Shan, Doctor Eli Dathan."

_Your own personal doctor? A wise precaution, though he looks at me as if he despises Jedi. _

_Not Jedi, _Katrina answered._ But you're close._

"The reason for the get-up, as you call it, is that before the rise of Darth Sion and others like him- before the Jedi were forced to go into hiding- I began my trials for knighthood. My final trial was to investigate the lingering presence of the Mandalorian clans in the galaxy."

"_I will not forget, but will the Council?" Bastila leaned up against the computer next to Katrina, gently clasping her hands together and staring at the ground._

"_The Council will someday see what I've seen. Until then, you owe every step you take back towards the light side to yourself. And those four thousand."_

_Is it too late to say I told you so?_

The moments in the training rooms of the now-defunct Jedi Temple came back to both women, and they shared a smile.

"Such an investigation requires a disguise. Mandalorians do not trust outsiders, and least of all magnanimous Jedi."

"You should have contacted Canderous-"

She felt like she had run into a steel wall, though there was no wall and she was standing still.

"You _did_ contact Canderous," Katrina corrected.

"Well, Master Jolee," Bastila ignored her, turning to Jolee. "It may be a little belated, but I have indeed successfully completed the mission the Council charged me with."

"Marvelous," Jolee replied. "Fire away, Jedi Bastila."

"The Mandalorians are indeed coming back into power in the galaxy. There's a new Mandalore-"

"I haven't heard anything about that," Katrina murmured.

"You wouldn't," Bastila explained. "He only very recently gained the title, and not all the remaining clans choose to follow him. Some have become most content with their lives as mercenaries and assassins, and others do not agree with his ideas for the future of the Mandalorian race."

"It was, in fact, he who sent those bounty hunters after me."

That small smile of triumph danced on the Jedi's usually serious features.

"You've become a target of Mandalore?" Dathan said, not sure whether to put the brunt of his disgust on 'target' or 'Mandalore'.

"'Target' is perhaps the wrong word, as he intends to retrieve me alive."

"And just how did you get yourself into hot water with the new Mandalore? Wait," Jolee said, holding up his hands. "Never mind, maybe I don't want to know. Let's start smaller; how did you infiltrate the cloistered Mandalorian culture in the first place?"

"Canderous Ordo agreed to help with convincing members of his clan and others that I was Mandalorian."

"Didn't he care that your mission was to find out if his people are rising to power again? I would think he'd refuse to go against his own clans."

This time Katrina felt like the wall had turned into a steamroller and was trying too hard to push her away. It only made her push back more.

"Perhaps instead of getting into an extended discussion of current Mandalorian political affairs," Bastila continued hurriedly. "We might get out of here and you can explain to me why you're wandering around the Southern Underground. This is a dangerous area."

Katrina couldn't quite explain the wrongness of what Bastila had just said. Except that it might be the same kind of wrongness one would feel watching a fish flop around on the sands of Tatooine, explaining that it was hot.

They exited the bounty hunter's dock, moving quickly back towards the dock that held the _Jedi Chaser_. It was best to get away from the bodies of the dead guards before the authorities showed up and started making assumptions.

One guard lay crumpled near the door. Dathan moved to check on him. "Unconscious. The rest of them must have run off to deal with the bounty hunters."

She ignored him, hurrying towards the _Chaser _and up the gangplank. The gangplank that she _hadn't _left down.

A trail of parts, oil, and grease led her straight to the hyperdrive, half dismantled and stripped. Scavengers must have tried to scrap the engine for parts.

_So much for my three-hundred credits_, Katrina thought angrily.

"Well," Bastila murmured, glancing at the hyperdrive. "I suppose we won't be going anywhere for a while."

"Any of you know how to repair a hyperdrive?" Katrina muttered.

_Force knows I don't. That's your father's job, _she thought towards her stomach, where "Mommy" seemed determined to break one of her ribs.

Jolee elbowed his way past the two women, rolling up his sleeves.

"Don't look at me like that. I _did _used to be a smuggler, mind. Think I didn't have to repair a bucket of bolts now and then?" The old Jedi crouched on the steel flooring, grunting as he began to look over the damage to the ship.

"Where are you intending on going, if I might ask?" Bastila said, turning to Katrina.

"We were here looking for you. I need your help."

_If I had a credit for how many times I'd heard that from you, I'd be a poor, poor woman._

Bastila's one-liners had improved. She liked to think it had something to do with her influence.

"I'm not sure how much help I might be. I'm a walking Sith and mercenary magnet at the moment," the Jedi added.

"Dustil and I were contacted by a Bothan named Leska Mayr'lo. He and members of his family have apparently been doing independent espionage work for the Jedi for the past year. They had landed on Chael- do you know Chael?"

"I was offered an endorsement from some little vanity company there in the months after the Star Forge, as I recall."

"The Bothan party has supposedly gathered some critical information on the whereabouts of powerful Sith that might be plotting to rein in all these assassins and launch a full-scale war. They were ambushed and some of them were taken hostage along with the plans by some Sith that are holed up somewhere near the city of Mikael-"

"How many? Is there a vying master and apprentice, or just a few Dark Jedi?"

"I don't know. I can't really be counted on to fight, so I left to round up you and Jolee so we can get the information back-"

"What does this information contain?"

"I don't _know_," Katrina repeated irritatedly. "I left Dustil there to find out more."

"What has he found out?"

"I _don't know_." She suddenly remembered that she still had a message to read from him.

Bastila put a hand on her hip, the cut in her ear and her flimsy blonde dye job making her look much less the haughty Jedi and more the wronged Mandalorian woman. "This plan sounds a little incomplete."

"It's not; we just have no way of knowing any more about the Sith threat on Chael until you, me, and Jolee can get back there and get a look at it. Dustil and I were attacked in the wilds by a bunch of them. They broke Dustil's arm and weren't easily defeated. We think they're holed up somewhere in the planet's mining ranges."

"Why would you think that?"

"The local authorities…" _Phineas._

"Your brother?" Bastila said out loud. Katrina nodded.

She waited as Bastila's logical Jedi mind worked through the possibilities and rejected the implausible ones.

"I am glad to hear he triumphed over the dark side once and for all."

_You and I both know there is no 'once and for all'. _

Bastila met her gaze for a moment.

She wondered for a moment why the people she cared about the most all had to be connected by this one common trait: that they had all been weak, fallen prey to their greatest fears, and would spend the rest of their lives trying to crawl back up to where they had been.

"We should leave as soon as the ship's repaired. Time might be of the greatest importance. For all we know, these Sith may have destroyed the information."

Jolee grumbled under his breath, a loud metallic clank coming from the direction of the damaged hyperdrive.

"Call if you need any help, Jolee."

"Bah, oil and engine grease are no good for babies. Go do something useful."

_Well, we at least offered, didn't we? _"Mommy" quietly seemed to roll over and settle into sleep.

Katrina and Bastila headed towards the cockpit, seating themselves comfortably in their respective pilot and co-pilot chairs.

"The ship has been admirably repaired," Bastila murmured, running her finger over a long scorch mark near the new control panel.

"Complimenting my ship isn't going to get you out of explaining what you've been doing the past year."

"Really, Revan, what do you think I've been doing?" Bastila replied witheringly, lines of fatigue crossing her face for a brief moment. "Running. Just like everybody else."

"More than everybody else, since you've also managed to get Mandalore angry with you."

The Jedi shrugged as if it had been unavoidable.

"Not many of the Mandalorian clans were exactly 'friendly' to me." She fingered the two halves of the fleshy part of her ear. "This wound is only a reminder of that."

"But Canderous helped you out, right? I still don't understand why."

"_So, Bastila," Katrina recognized the mocking in Canderous's tone within the first two words and knew that this wasn't going to end well. "I heard a rumor that the Vulkars captured you without much of a struggle. It must be embarrassing to be bested by a handful of street thugs."_

_The Jedi bristled._

_"There were extenuating circumstances. And I can assure you it took far more than a handful of Vulkars to subdue me."_

It probably took a good muzzle,_ Katrina thought._

"Canderous…had his own agenda. And my motives were apparently not dangerous enough to be considered a threat. He aided me in my research about potential Mandalores."

She again felt like a large force field had been erected between the pilot's chair where she sat and the co-pilot's chair where Bastila sat.

"This thing between you and the new Mandalore just sounds…more personal." The Jedi shot her a look.

_Which means it probably is._

"This Mandalore is no threat to us. He has…different ideas for the future of the Mandalorian clans. None of them thus far involve attempting another takeover of the galaxy."

"How do you know?"

Both Jedi turned around to look at Dathan, who stood in the doorway with his arms folded. He watched Bastila's Mandalorian armor warily, like it might spring off of its owner and attack him.

_You seem to have a penchant for men that have trust issues, _Bastila raised an eyebrow at her. "Doctor Dathan, I assure you there is nothing to fear. The Mandalorians will not start another war, in our lifetimes at least."

"Well, we should make sure they never start another one. You need to inform the proper authorities about this new Mandalore."

"Just who is she supposed to inform?" Jolee murmured, entering the room and wiping his greasy hands on his robes. Finding that they were already greasy and sweat-laden enough, he wiped them on Dathan.

"It's not like the Jedi Council's going to go tell the Republic about this and start another war," the old Jedi added with a snort.

"And why not?" Dathan demanded.

"Because you're looking at the remnants of the Council, sonny. And I sure as hell don't think it's worth all the fuss." Jolee grasped the doctor's tense shoulder. "Come on, kid. We're going to need to go out and get some spare parts if we want to be airborne again."

Dathan nodded obediently and followed the Jedi back towards the gangplank.

"So just what was Canderous's agenda, anyways?" Katrina continued, turning back to Bastila.

The Jedi rose abruptly. "Is there any place on this ship to sleep? I've been running for several days now with little rest."

"Take my bed if you want."

Bastila nodded, out of the cockpit faster than the time it took Katrina to sigh and shake her head.

_We need to make less secretive friends, kiddo. _She turned herself and the baby towards the control panel and brought up Dustil's forgotten message.

He rambled; she could sense there were things he didn't think he should tell her yet. Katrina tapped her fingers on the _Chaser_'s console, reading over it one last time.

The Sith on Chael weren't an army, which she had already guessed. That they were taking orders from somewhere else wasn't that big of a surprise, considering how many rising Sith Lords (Sion and others) were trying to organize them. The ones giving them their orders might have even been the very Sith the Bothans' information was alluding to.

All this talk about ancient Sith, however- that hadn't been expected.

"_Something drove them, Revan, but it was not their lost codes of arms. And for some, it is not the desire to wipe out the Jedi that drives these assassins today. It was not even glory that drove you and I down the dark path."_

_But Sith as a species are dead_, she thought, nodding silently in agreement with Dustil. _They died out ages ago, and the places they inhabited were lost._

Were there new factions of dark Jedi rising? Ones that were more focused on the lost myths of the Sith rather than destroying the Order and the galaxy along with it?

Or was it possible that maybe the oldest factions of Dark Jedi had never really fallen?

_And why do I feel like I've heard this before?_

She frowned, leaning back in her chair and watching the Coruscanti traffic outside the window.

Déjà vu usually meant the worst.


	20. Chapter 20

_"What does this mean, Master?"_

_She smirked softly. "Isn't it a little silly to be calling me 'Master' now, Malak?"_

_He was back to his crimson and grey robes, which clung to his unnaturally large muscles. She felt sure that there had to be some color somewhere on his body, even though all she could see was his pale face and hands. Maybe his painfully tight robes were cutting off his circulation._

_He looked like the impersonal Lord Malak instead of Malak, her friend._

_"You accepted nothing less, Revan. And at first I didn't mind. I foolishly believed submitting to your rule might win your favor." He turned back towards the computer console. "What do you see?"_

_She could not remember this; and yet she knew exactly what to say._

_"They possess power and knowledge even beyond us. Think of what could be gained by bringing them back into the galaxy."_

_"Is it wise to court beings who may be more powerful than ourselves?"_

_She gave him a withering stare._

_Being stronger meant nothing. It only meant they were stronger for the moment. The way of the Sith was superiority; and now that she knew of these beings, she would not rest until she had learned their secrets too._

_"As usual, apprentice, you remind me of what a poor excuse for a Sith you really are. We have discovered the existence of a lost ideal in regions unexplored by the Republic or our own fleet. We will seek them out and learn what we can."_

_"We are about to unleash the Star Forge upon the galaxy," Malak replied. "An expedition into the Unknown Regions to seek out previously extinct Sith would not be-"_

_"After this battle is over, and the Jedi Order realizes who is the true power in the universe."_

_The finality of her words struck even her- that just as the assassins and vying Sith Lords of the present were trying to exterminate the Jedi, she had had the same ambitions._

Thank the Force Malak killed me before I had the chance.

_"You thank me for what I did?" Malak said, laughing softly. "Ironic, as I spent many years convincing myself that I did indeed try to murder you for your own good. But I had no such noble goals, Revan."_

_His words were out of character; at least the character he was supposed to be in this memory, and she turned to him. "Are these Sith the same ones that might be massing or giving the orders on Chael?"_

_"I could not say. As you remember, things did not go exactly according to plan. We never made it to the Unknown Regions to seek them out, and their coordinates and any evidence you and I found of them was lost when the Star Forge fell."_

_"We should be thankful for that, at least. You would have unwittingly brought hell upon the Order and the Republic."_

_"Mommy?" By now she had learned that turning around would accomplish nothing, but she turned to look anyways._

_But instead of the cold halls of the Star Forge or one of her command ships, instead of Malak's bald and scarred head, she looked down and saw a child. _

_Her child, Carth's child, their child._

_Their daughter. A little girl who looked up at her with brown eyes, Carth's eyes._

_She recognized the lines of the little girl's face that followed her own and her brother's, and she even saw a little of Dustil in the set of her daughter's chin._

_"Revan." She glanced back up at Malak._

_"You answer to the name, but do you answer for what you've done?" She looked away. Like Carth, her daughter's eyes neither condemned nor excused her. _

_But they were watching._

* * *

"She's sputtering, Jolee!" Katrina called over her shoulder.

The _Chaser _whined in protest, making a last valiant attempt to start despite her patched-together hyperdrive.

She could barely make out random cursing and grunting coming from the engine room near the back of the ship.

She didn't blame him; she was pretty frustrated herself. They didn't have time to sit around on Coruscant.

"Try it again!" the old Jedi yelled. Katrina obediently began to power up the ship.

This time it coughed once, abrupt and short, before falling silent again.

"Fracking piece of Sith spit…" Jolee's voice trailed off into a vague drone of tools.

The authorities were watching the ship and the dock much more closely since the shootout with the bounty hunters a few days ago. She and Bastila didn't even venture off of it- too recognizable.

Since Jolee and Dathan hadn't been seen except when they were encased in Iridorian armor, they had been the ones exiting the ship in search of cheap, compatible hyperdrive parts that might help the ship limp its way back to Chael.

"Once more," Jolee called threateningly, as if there would be grave consequences for the _Jedi Chaser _if she refused to start again.

For her ship's sake, Katrina crossed her fingers and punched the controls again.

Jolee's triumphant "Hah!" was so loud that it could be heard clearly over the hum of the _Chaser'_s up and running engines.

_You don't know how lucky you were, _she thought with a smile, patting the ship's scorched console fondly.

Liking a ship made her think of how Carth and Dustil were usually the ones who liked ships. Thinking of Carth made her think of his eyes made her think of her daughter who shared them-

"Master Jedi, I'm not going to get back into this discussion with you-"

"Perhaps you should have considered your reticence on the subject _before _telling me I seemed too sympathetic towards Mandalorians-"

Dathan breezed into the cockpit, sitting down in the co-pilot's chair and turning to her. "Good morning, Revan."

Bastila wasn't far behind him, though her entrance was less of a breeze and more of a hurricane. "Indeed, good morning, Revan- as long as the doctor does nothing more to ruin it."

"I have my feelings about Mandalorians, Master Jedi. And you…you have yours."

_Are you certain we need him?_ The Jedi shot towards her, glaring as if Katrina had been planning this all along.

_Unless you happened to become a midwife during your time with the Mandalorian clans._

"Mine do not involve unfounded prejudices and narrow-minded insults-"

"Unfounded prejudices?" Dathan protested. "Master Jedi, they tried to take over the galaxy! I know they've renamed this war, but a long time ago it was known as the Mandalorian Wars _for a reason_."

_So, are you ever going to tell me just why you're so sympathetic towards Mandalorians nowadays?_

She busied herself with the controls and the continuing power-up of the ship. Bastila folded her arms uncomfortably, keeping her steely gaze on the doctor rather than Katrina.

_I never shared the Republic's animosity for them, Revan. My feelings on this subject are no stronger than they used to be._

"Your point is entirely correct. A 'long time ago', we fought the Mandalorian clans and defeated them. That war is over, Doctor Dathan. Should we continue to hate and despise Sith even after our war against them ends?"

_Right, _Katrina replied to the Jedi. _And this baby is actually Zaalbar's, not Carth's._

Bastila's hand went to cover her straight-pin mouth, trying to hide her laughter from Dathan.

"No," the doctor shot back, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair. "But when they undoubtedly try to destroy the Jedi again, you'll start right back hating and despising them, right?"

_I will admit that, as a result of my mission, I am now more personally connected with the clans-_

_You mean with Canderous, _Katrina glanced over her shoulder at the Jedi. Bastila's eyes were wide as though she was seeing something that wasn't quite enough to scare her, but alarming all the same.

"A Jedi does not give into such base passions," Bastila answered. "I am not in the habit of holding a grudge against anyone who's ever wanted to kill me."

Katrina decided not to remind the Jedi that if she did, she wouldn't be friends with half the former crew of the _Ebon Hawk_.

_Finding our bond a little inconvenient now, are we? _

Bastila glared at her._ About as 'inconvenient' as I found it when you and Carth disappeared into the sickbay for a few days after Korriban. _

She had the good grace to blush slightly over the control panel.

_Very well. _Bastila's inner monologue was as dignified and haughty as her actual voice could be. _I admittedly became much…closer with Ordo on my mission._

_"Insults?" The Mandalorian sounded more amused than actually insulted. "Maybe if your masters had trained your lightsaber to be as quick as your tongue you could have escaped, you spoiled little Jedi Princess."_

_For a moment, Katrina had been fairly certain that Bastila's head was going to turn purple and pop off._

_"_You _are nothing but a…no, I must not do this. There is no emotion, there is peace."_

_Canderous laughed._

_"That's the problem with you Jedi. Always chanting about peace and control, never up for a good fight."_

_"Enough, Mandalorian," the Jedi Bastila hissed, emotion apparently having defeated peace. "The game is over."_

"You seem to think that they're just like any other species or group in the galaxy, and should be free to 'practice their beliefs'," Dathan continued, his voice dripping with disgust. "They're not a religious order, Jedi Shan. They're a group of warriors who care about nothing other than becoming better warriors."

"You're right about that, at least," Bastila muttered under her breath.

_Spill it, Jedi Bastila, _Katrina pressed, turning around in her chair and folding her arms on top of her stomach.

_I sought his help with searching out potential Mandalores. Little did I know that he was trying to raise a new one all along._

She had her own ideas about just who the new Mandalore was, but decided to keep them to herself. Bastila didn't need to betray _all _her secrets for Katrina to understand.

"Then do you understand my concern, Master Jedi?" Dathan finished. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

_My Jedi abilities enabled me to unearth secrets that might have otherwise remained buried within the clans. I discovered the identities of all other rivals for the title. What Mandalore wouldn't want such a weapon? _Bastila shot towards her.

"If by 'anything', you mean that I'm ridiculously naïve and willing to support any creature that begs my help, despite their history."

_I was merely the means to an end, _the Jedi finished resignedly.

_Somehow I doubt that, _Katrina replied, raising an eyebrow.

Dathan rose from his chair, rubbing his neck. "Point taken, Master Jedi. I apologize. To both of you."

Bastila nodded, and he looked towards Katrina. She wondered for a moment what the hell he was apologizing to her for.

_And what makes you so sure? _the Jedi prodded.

_The new Mandalore's already reached the end. And he's still chasing you._

She pushed herself up from the pilot's chair, waving away Dathan's offered hand "I'm going to go make sure Jolee hasn't blown himself up or anything. It's awfully quiet back there."

Bastila took her spot, quickly familiarizing herself with the controls. "We should depart immediately."

Katrina nodded in agreement, gesturing towards the blue and yellow skies of Coruscant's dawn. "Then get us out of this hellhole and back into space. We've got Sith to catch."

Katrina left both Dathan and Bastila in the cockpit and headed back to where Jolee was half buried in the repaired hyperdrive, tools and parts scattered around his feet.

"You're not sabotaging my ship, are you old man?" she murmured, leaning back against the bulkhead.

"Hmph. That's gratitude for navigating my way through one of the trickiest fixtures known to hyperspace travel. Only Carth would buy such a ridiculously complicated ship."

"He likes a challenge."

"I suppose that's why he likes you, eh?"

Thinking of Carth made her think of his eyes made her think of her daughter who shared them made her hand run over her stomach, where the little girl with brown eyes was probing the skin she was enclosed in, and that made her think about the vision.

Apparently she and Dustil had been wrong. Ancient Sith or some kind of variant _had _existed, at least about eight years or so ago. She and Malak had discovered them.

But were they even related to the ones giving orders on Chael? The ones Akiva Vin had researched?

_What and who are they? How did Malak and I find them? And most important of all, what do they want?_

The _Chaser _groaned slightly as Katrina felt the ship slide out of the dock and into the Coruscanti space lanes.

"Good. If we're lifting off it means they haven't killed each other."

Jolee chuckled.

"You've got your hands full with that one, don't you?" Katrina glanced back towards the cockpit where Dathan was apparently behaving himself and cooperating with Bastila.

"He was mostly just a righteous doctor up until now, not a scarred soldier," she replied.

"Reminds me of another kid I used to know-"

"And by 'know', of course, you mean 'invented to make some kind of point'."

Jolee cleared his throat, ignoring her. "This kid was at the top of his game; big important position in the fleet-"

"Which fleet?"

"It doesn't matter which fleet!" the old Jedi snapped irritably, putting the last piece of the hyperdrive access panels back. "He also had a pretty big chip on his shoulder, one that made him think he had nothing else but to chase after whatever chisel had given him the chip-"

"Are we talking about a person or tools?"

Jolee glared at her. "Sure you're not considering re-upping with the Sith? I have to say, you have a promising career ahead of you."

_So I've been told._

Jolee grunted, pushing himself up from the ground and dusting himself off.

"Where was I? So anyways, along the way, the kid with the chip happens to find some filler. And that filler is so strong that he figures out that the chisel can't possibly break him anymore."

Katrina stared blankly at him. "And?"

"And that's the end. You aren't going to act all obtuse again and tell me you don't know what it means?"

_If I'm obtuse for not understanding _that_, everyone in the galaxy must be obtuse_.

"Just for kicks, Jolee, how about you tell me in no uncertain terms exactly what you're talking about?"

"The kid is supposed to be Carth. The chip is supposed to be his past. The filler is supposed to be you."

"And what the hell does any of that have to do with our current situation?"

The old Jedi smacked his forehead in exasperation. "Force, you are dense sometimes. He likes you."

"Who, Carth?" she said, amused.

"No! The other one, Dathan."

"_I'll go with you," Dathan suddenly said._

"_Are you out of your mind? Like I need your constant badgering in my ear."_

"_It might do you a world of good," he replied without missing a beat._

"Likes me?" she repeated, her tongue rolling out the 'l' as if it tasted bad.

"Admires, cares for, fancies- I wouldn't go so far as 'loves' yet."

_"Be careful," the doctor murmured, his voice thick and low through the Iridorian mask. Dathan managed to take out one crew member and spent the rest of the fight hovering around her, never moving more than one or two meters away._

"At least he's not as obvious about it as Carth was," the old Jedi commented. "Throwing 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' around like they grow on trees."

_That, and it would be pretty crass to hit on a practically married pregnant woman, _she thought.

_"You'd, uh," Dathan murmured, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "You'd probably rather he was here than me, I guess."_

"Yeah, well, I don't have the time or patience for subtleties," Katrina replied, smirking at Jolee.

"So I've noticed."

"We're ready to make the jump to hyperspace." Bastila's voice echoed from the cockpit.

She and Jolee made their way back to the front of the ship. There was an awkward exchange of seats; hers for Bastila's, Bastila's for Dathan's.

She watched the doctor as he buckled himself into one of the passenger seats. There was nothing in the calm set of his lips or direct gaze of his blue eyes that said he thought any more of her than the rest of the occupants on the _Chaser._

Well, she'd deal with it later. Right now she had more important concerns.

Her daughter-

Katrina smiled for a moment. The words had a nice ring to them. Her daughter was kicking. _My daughter is kicking._

She wondered for a moment if her daughter's appearance in her visions was entirely her own invention, or Malak's, or a part of the Force that she couldn't control. More importantly, she wondered if her daughter could see all that happened in her visions.

They made the jump through hyperspace, and Katrina set the ship on autopilot straight for Chael, settling back into the seat.

_But there are worse things for her to see, _she reminded herself as the rest of the cockpit's occupants made their way back into the ship, as her eyes grew heavy and she curled up against the worn leather of the seat. _There are worse things to dream about._

* * *

_His hands, pale and varicose veined, rifled through her hair. _

No. Not this, _she thought absently, her own hands going against her will to run over the lines of his tattoos._

_"Malak-"_

_"How many times did I long to hear you speak my name, Revan?" he whispered in her ear. "How I loathed hearing the accursed title of 'apprentice'."_

_"Not this, Malak."_

_She caught a momentary glimpse of his once blue eyes, now two hideous sores of orange and red._

_"Then what else, Revan?"_

_Malak drew her into his arms, gentle and strong like he imagined himself in his dreams. He kissed her, and she kissed him back; just like she did in his dreams._

_In reality, her eyes opened slowly and she lay in her own bed on the Star Forge, breathing heavily and thinking of how best to exact her revenge._

_She had always been stronger than him; nothing could hide from her. Not his secrets, not his dreams. And this dream in particular had been too strong for him to protect and horde like the others. This dream had broadcast itself loudly across the station, open to any and all Force-users._

_They had all seen him kiss her; they would all know by morning. They would assume, and the assumptions would threaten her position, her power, and her ability to command the fleet._

_And she knew what she had to do- what she had already done._

_She rose from her bed. She washed her face and dressed herself in her robes as though it were any other day. She hooked her lightsaber to her belt and exited her room._

_But her mask she left- she would look into his eyes when she did this._

_Malak's room was clear on the other side of the station, as if he thought he might escape her by being physically farther away. But she knew the path well- she knew all paths of the Star Forge equally well._

_He had already risen from his bed as she entered the room, sweaty and half-dressed._

_She approached him, not even bothering to push his lightsaber to the other side of the room. He wouldn't attempt to use it._

_Was it even the fleet? The fact that all the other Dark Jedi had sensed the Dark Apprentice's dreams? _

_Was it more that his lips (which now trembled pale and lavender at the sight of her icy gaze) had longed to touch hers? _

_Was it more that she had felt his hands run over her body even though he would never dare to touch her, had never even dared in their youth or their days as Jedi?_

_Malak offered no resistance as she held out her hand, pushing him to the floor. She wrenched him up by his chin, staring into eyes that didn't seem so red anymore._

_Of course. Malak was many things, but foolish was not one of them. He knew the rules. He knew that he had broken them._

_Was it more that she could not control this as she controlled everything else? Was it more that his feelings for her might affect her in ways she did not anticipate-_

No, _she thought firmly. _This ends here. He will never be able to take that kiss he so desperately wants to steal.

_Malak opened his mouth obediently. Even now, even now as he knew what she was about to do, he was following her._

_She put the hilt of her lightsaber between his teeth, ignited, and quickly, effortlessly (in a way she was trying to make painless despite a desire for revenge) sheared off the lower portion of his face._

_He tried to scream but her blade came close to his vocal cords and it dropped to a sick warble. He convulsed and fell to the metallic flooring, the smoldering remains of his tongue, lips and chin lying a few centimeters away._

_Security guards and Dark Jedi under her command swarmed into the room, freezing the moment they realized what had happened._

_She stood over him as medics immediately began working on her apprentice; to stabilize his breathing and secure his windpipe, to make sure he lived. They glanced warily over their shoulders at her as if to make sure saving him wasn't punishable by death._

_No; she did not want him dead. The crime didn't merit the loss of a powerful warrior and intense Sith._

_He was loyal; he believed in her. He would follow her to the end. The crime didn't merit throwing that away._

_Malak gazed up at her from where he lay, silent and still under the hands of a dozen medical officers._

_She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the smooth metal flooring near where his head rested. She saw her own acrid red eyes; her jaundiced, yellowing skin, the cracked edges of her pale lips._

_"Even then, Revan," Malak's voice came from where he lay, even though he had not yet been fitted with the cybernetic vocal implant; indeed, could not even breathe on his own yet. "Even then, as I began to plot your demise, I thought you were beautiful. Had I known calling you as such might win your heart instead of deprive me of my jaw, things may have been different."_

There are no worse things to dream about. This is the worst.

_"I'm so sorry, Malak," she whispered, unable to do what she had done in reality; put her lightsaber back onto her belt and return to bed for several hours of uninterrupted sleep._

_His hand was on her shoulder even though the rest of him was on the floor of the Star Forge._

_"This is what we wished on our friends, Revan. This is the so-called 'power' we thought to share."_

_The other hand touching her- grasping a couple of her fingers- was small and delicate, though its grip no less firm._

_"Mommy?"_

_She knelt down to look at her daughter; wondering how she too could look upon her diseased mother with nothing but love and devotion._

Will it destroy you in the end, like it destroyed Malak?

_"Celyn-"_

_The name rolled off her tongue naturally, and she knew that "Mommy", a little girl with Carth's eyes and her face, was named Celyn. It was as irrefutable as knowing which way Coruscant was._

_The little girl looked past her, over her shoulder and down the hallway behind her._

_She turned, watching as the figure that was sprinting towards her came closer and closer._

_Phineas skidded to a halt, panting heavily and gripping her shoulders. He pulled her towards him, his hair askew and his eyes wild._

_"Come back, you have to come back," he said._

_"Phineas, we're on our way back right now," she replied, grasping his wrists and trying to wrench them off of her._

_"No, you have to come back now. Hurry." There was panic in his voice like she hadn't heard since Anelli._

_"We're going as fast as we can-"_

_"Come back. Come back now," her brother repeated. "They've got Dustil."_


	21. Chapter 21

"Your turn."

Dustil barely caught the datapad Tova tossed towards him. He passed it between his hands for a moment before leaning towards the console and typing in his guess.

"_Unknown Regions"_

_ERROR: INVALID CODE._

"No good," he murmured, tossing the datapad back to Tova.

Akiva Vin's last level of archives was making opening the last couple look easy. His brain felt like the innards of a tauntaun.

Tova pushed herself up on her elbows from where she lay on the floor of Akiva Vin's study.

"Isn't there some kind of trick you can use to figure it out? Don't you Jedi have powers and methods for reaching out and sensing things or something?"

He rolled his eyes at her.

"If I could just pull your grandfather's codes out of thin air, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Not if you were trying to frustrate me."

"I know better ways to frustrate a girl."

Tova smirked. "I'd believe it."

Dustil crawled down to the floor to lay next to her, folding his hands behind his head.

"Jedi don't control the Force. I can't tell it what to do. I can search for the answer, but it's not just going to come because I call it."

"Well, try," Tova pressed, rolling over and leaning over him.

Dustil closed his eyes, scrunching up his face in mock concentration and making loud groaning noises.

"Dus_til_," his host's daughter said, annoyed. She jostled him, her blond hair leaning over her shoulders and tickling his chin.

"All right, all right," he replied, laughing.

_So there are supposedly true Sith, ancient Sith somewhere in the Unknown Regions of the galaxy. Supposedly they're giving orders to the Sith on Chael. Supposedly they've had their hands in everything from the Mandalorian Wars to these latest Jedi Civil Wars-_

Tova rested her head on his chest, letting an arm creep around his waist. Dustil cracked one eyelid open.

"You know, you're making it hard to concentrate."

He felt her smile against his shoulder.

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be able to shut out the rest of the world and find inner peace."

"Inner peace is about the last thing on my mind right now." He hadn't thought he could fall back into the role of roguish young flirt so easily- He had been playing the stoic Jedi Knight for so long he thought he had forgotten.

_His archives so far have revealed their history on the planet, and their identity; the how and the who. So what's left? They haven't sought out Jedi to kill- all the Jedi have just wandered into their grasp. What is it that they want if not to assassinate Jedi?_

Tova's fingers idly played with the belt hook of his lightsaber.

"Uh oh. I think you're compromising your journalistic integrity in this position, Miss Vin."

His host's daughter sat up.

"Then you'd better answer my questions completely and honestly, Jedi Onasi, so we can avoid any assumptions about our professional relationship."

He watched the dreamy look that had just been on her face harden and smooth into the impenetrable gaze of an investigator.

"What brought you to Chael, especially in the midst of such danger to the Jedi Order?"

"The Bothans I told you about called us. They wanted our help in getting the hostages and the stolen information back."

Tova raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

As much as he liked her, as much as he didn't want to incur her wrath, as much as he was willing to tell her the truth and trust her with his secrets now, there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to tell her that the former Dark Lord Revan was his master. He knew the rules about mentioning her. Never say her real name. Never mention that she was one of the Star Forge Jedi. Never mention that she was involved with Admiral Carth Onasi.

_And if you're going to mention her to anyone, _he added to himself,_ for Force's sake don't let it be an intelligent and intrepid journalist._

"My master." He kept his voice carefully nonchalant, like it was standard Jedi procedure not to give your master a name. "She left to go rally more Jedi. She and I couldn't take on these Sith by ourselves, especially once I injured my arm."

Tova prodded his upper arm as if testing his theory.

"What does your father think about you being a Jedi?"

"He's proud, mostly. He worries about me a lot; maybe too much."

_Jedi don't relish their father's worries, _he chided. _Jedi don't take guilty pleasure in the fact that their fathers will do anything if it means they'll never lose you again._

"The HoloNet had a lot of unconfirmed rumors about Admiral Onasi and the Jedi." She looked at him pointedly.

Dustil sighed. "I try not to think about my father's love life-"

"The rest of the galaxy doesn't share your disinterest. Who did he remarry? Who's the one who's going to have your step-sibling?"

"My master," he muttered under his breath.

Tova broke character for a moment, giggling.

"Oh. That must be…awkward."

"You're telling me."

"I thought Jedi weren't supposed to get married or have children. I thought they were supposed to devote their lives to the Order."

Dustil laughed. "I'm breaking about ten rules of the Order right now, Miss Vin. And I have to say, I'm pretty happy about it."

He let his hands touch her cheeks, playing with her hair. Her own hands still hovered around his lightsaber, where it hung from his side half touching the ground.

"Why is your lightsaber red?" His hands froze.

"Only Sith carry red ones," Tova continued. "I know you didn't make that up. Is it part of a disguise? Because that would actually be a pretty good idea."

He wondered when would be an appropriate time to tell her. Or any girl, for that matter. After dating for a while? After getting engaged? After marriage, after children, after they were both so old that it wouldn't matter anymore?

He wondered if he would ever tell her.

"It's to remind me of how easily I could become a Sith. To remind me that I can't ever let anger or hatred control me."

All it would take to make it the truth would be adding 'again' to the ends of both sentences. But he wasn't ready to tell her that he had once been a Sith, that he had once let anger and hatred consume him, control him, _own _him.

He wasn't ready to tell her that the fact he could never let himself change the color of his lightsaber shamed him more than anything else.

His answer seemed to satisfy her. Tova lay back down on top of him, and he closed his eyes and tried to get his mind off of how nice the weight of her head was.

_He said…he said that we gave the ancient Sith their power, that we gave them life. Who's 'we'? 'We' must be the Jedi. So what does that mean? Ancient Jedi met ancient Sith, taught them about the Force, and that created Dark Jedi. So…so…_

Dustil furrowed his brow in concentration.

_So what is their goal? Say it _was_ something incredibly lofty, like taking over the galaxy; something that might have prompted their supposed involvement in major political events up until now. What's the greatest weapon they could possibly harness to do that?_

He suddenly leapt up from the floor, Tova slipping clumsily off of him as he quickly went to the console and typed in his guess.

"_Conversion"_

_ACCESS GRANTED._

Dustil fell back in the chair, running his hands through his hair and letting out a groan of relief.

"You think these Sith are trying to convert Jedi instead of kill them?" Tova murmured, getting up and leaning over the computer; apparently not offended that he had knocked her off of him.

"Maybe, although it doesn't make sense from a Sith standpoint. All they're interested in is outdoing each other. Superiority at any cost. Sharing secrets isn't the way to get ahead."

_Did they even try to convert Akiva and his predecessors? They might have, and then killed them for their refusal to turn. Or maybe they just got too close to the truth, and they were deemed unworthy._

Revan would nod approvingly. Her stomach was probably as big as a Hutt's by now.

_Okay, Master. I think I can get you up to speed reasonably well. The Sith in the caves are taking orders from ancient Sith that aren't extinct after all. They're somewhere in the Unknown Regions and their goal isn't to assassinate the Jedi like all the Sith wannabes around now; they want to turn them all to the dark side._

_Why?_ Revan would ask, irritated. Completely ignoring all the work he had done, as usual.

_They might have somehow spurred the Mandalorian Wars, _Dustil would add, trying to distract her.

_How? _This time, the voice in his head was Juhani.

_I'm trying, Master, _he replied, sighing. He could almost see the Cathar smile gently.

_Do not overexert yourself trying to find all the answers, Dustil. Some legacies must be discovered by those who started them. She will accept responsibility for what she's done._

He frowned, grasping vaguely for Juhani, whose presence wavered in the air like the barely discernable scent of perfume.

'_She'? Master Juhani, what are you talking about?_

But the Cathar was gone.

"Are you all right?" Tova murmured, grasping his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dustil replied, shaking his head. "Just hearing voices."

"Sometimes I can hear Force-users that are long dead," he explained. "Sometimes ones that are alive call out to me and I can hear them too. It's all part of the Force. We sometimes hear things we wouldn't have otherwise known."

"Do all Jedi hear voices?"

"Only the terribly handsome ones."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're having a field day with this, aren't you?"

_Pretty much._

"Sorry," Dustil added sheepishly, standing up and stretching. "Look, Tova, I don't expect you to…what I mean is, I'm not going to stay on Chael-"

"I'm not staying on Chael either," his host's daughter pointed out.

"I'm just trying to enjoy this while it lasts."

Tova scoffed, putting one hand on her hip and the other on the computer console, her fingernails tapping loudly against it.

"Do all Jedi give up that easily?"

"When they've been down this road before. When they've seen where it leads."

_Selene, cold and dead and decomposed somewhere on Korriban._

He could still remember the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when his father had read Master Uthar's journal to him, could still remember wanting to tell him to stop, that he didn't want to hear anymore.

He could still remember amid his father's triumphant voice, his merciless recitation; he could still remember realizing that by loving Selene, he had killed her.

"Where does it lead?" Tova demanded.

_But…that was the Sith. This, this is different._

Weak justification or not, it didn't stop Dustil from taking her hands as she moved willingly into his arms.

Tova looked up at him.

"I thought the Jedi weren't supposed to give in to their passions," she teased. "Doesn't that Code of yours go, 'There is no emotion, there is peace'?"

"Yeah, well, that Code of ours doesn't say anything about beautiful girls in our arms."

He leaned in to kiss her, and for a moment forgot about Akiva Vin and the Sith on Chael and Revan's impending return. He forgot he was a Jedi Knight and forgot that he still had a load of archives to go through.

_This is what I was supposed to do when I was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. I wasn't supposed to be hitchhiking around the galaxy with a blaster and a vibroblade at my side. I wasn't supposed to join the Sith or contemplate patricide-_

Tova broke violently off from him. He grasped her waist, wondering what had startled her. He had forgotten everything.

"Dustil?"

He had forgotten to lock the door too.

Jaron Vin stood in the doorway, his hand calmly grasping the frame, the look on his face completely inscrutable. His briefcase sat by his feet, and he still wore his coat. His host must have just arrived home from work and gone straight to find him. Dustil idly wondered what it was that Vin had needed to tell him so immediately.

"I would ask for an explanation," His voice was completely level, and Dustil also wondered where he was hiding the anger and outrage that his host must have been feeling. "But I think the story is somewhat clear."

He tried to reach out and sense what Vin was thinking, but he couldn't feel anything but Tova; her irritation at having been discovered and not having been more careful, her fear of what might happen to everything she dreamed of now that her father had discovered them.

He found no regret in her, and that made him feel a little better.

Dustil let himself take a quick breath. Tova's lower lip trembled, and he vaguely pulled on the skin around her elbow.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll fix it."

_Force, don't let me have forgotten how to do this, _he thought desperately, breaking contact with Tova and approaching Vin.

"Jaron," he began slowly.

_Keep all emotion out of your voice, keep it clear and concise, keep it easy to remember._

"You didn't see anything."

_Never break eye contact or it won't work. You must appear as though you believe completely what you're saying, or else they won't believe it either._

"You want to go and take a rest. You won't remember any of this. It's only a dream."

Vin stared blankly at him.

"I didn't see anything," he finally replied in a bland monotone. "I want to go and take a rest. I won't remember any of this. It's only a dream."

Like one of the walking dead, he turned and padded back down the hall to wherever he had come from, closing the door behind him.

Dustil exhaled; sweat suddenly running down his temples. Tova didn't waste any time. She hurriedly gathered up her datapads.

"Tova…" he said weakly, barely trying to stop her as she slipped past him and out the door without another word.

He sighed, sitting back down in front of the console.

Things weren't supposed to be going like this.

_What other way did you expect them to go, Onasi?_ He thought; punching the computer controls savagely.

* * *

_"Why do you disturb me, Dustil?"_

_It wasn't wise to bother Master Uthar. It was especially stupid to bother him when he was busy. It was suicidal to go to his quarters late at night and wake him up._

_Thus, Dustil was having a hard time understanding why he was standing here in front of the annoyed Sith headmaster when it was technically very early in the morning._

I wouldn't have been this dumb, I never did this…_It slowly began to dawn on him that this was not a memory; this was a vision._

_Although why he was consulting Master Uthar, out of all people, he didn't know._

_His former Sith master smiled thinly. __"You do not wish to see me in your dreams, do you?" _

_"Not particularly," Dustil replied tightly, unable to be at ease even now, when he knew the Academy headmaster was dead and couldn't punish him anymore._

_"You disappoint me. You were my most promising student, after all."_

Until Revan came along, _Dustil thought._

_Uthar smiled again. It made the young Jedi Knight shiver. _

_He had seen it before, when he had first come to the Academy and Uthar had goaded him over his surname._

_"Your father would be proud, wouldn't he?" The other students who had happened to be in the central chambers had laughed cruelly. Later Dustil would learn that it was a nervous kind of laughter, one you forced out of your stomach and up through your throat, hoping it would save you from death._

_"I don't have a father," he replied automatically._

_"Denial will not help you here, boy. Denial is for the weak." Uthar had stepped towards him. Physically he was not very intimidating- barely taller than Dustil, pale and graceful in his movements._

_But in that moment, Dustil had felt more afraid than he ever had in his life._

_"You deny because you despise. Embrace it. Take hold of your hatred and let it give you the strength you desire."_

_Now Dustil looked at him and saw a bitter, defeated, aging bald man. _

_Uthar laughed, low and seductive._

_"Yes, indeed. Until Revan came along. If I had only known, I might have rallied the whole Academy against her sooner. You would have been welcome in the onslaught. I would have even allowed you the privilege of striking down your father-"_

_"Look, I didn't choose to imagine you, and I'm sure you'd rather be off wallowing in your own filth or some equally horrible afterlife. So why don't you spare me and just answer my questions?"_

I wouldn't have been this dumb. I never did this. _Dustil wasn't entirely sure if this kind of response would have earned him death or a promotion._

_That was the way of the Sith; they drew you in until you didn't know the difference between good and evil. And you knew you were completely lost when you found that you didn't care._

_"Certainly," Uthar replied smoothly. "You seek true Sith. These beings far surpass the pathetic efforts of you, me, or even your legendary master. You are a fool if you think you can defeat them-"_

_"What do they want?"_

_"They come from regions unexplored by the Republic. They desire what every Sith desires."_

_"You were never this vague in life, Master," Dustil snapped._

_"In life I never had pathetic Jedi Knights begging me for answers- only for their lives," Uthar suddenly snarled._

_"Ask your master about these beings. She would know far more than I." He laughed again. "As for what they want- you'll find out soon enough, my former pupil."_

He woke up in a cold sweat, curled up in a ball in the corner of Akiva Vin's archives.

Dustil shivered, wrapping himself up in his robes, breathing and finding that he could barely see his breath in the moonlight.

He felt edgy, half asleep and half awake. He felt itchy and uncomfortable. He felt guilty.

For a second he wished Tova was here like she had been many other nights. That only made him feel more guilty.

The Vin home felt horrible now. Stifled, unnaturally quiet, and dead; much like Grandfather Akiva.

_At least Jaron doesn't know, _he reminded himself drowsily, remembering his successful Force Persuasion earlier.

But if he expected this thing with Tova to…go anywhere, Jaron Vin would have to find out eventually. Better sooner than later.

_I need to stop lying. To everyone. _Dustil sat up, trying to work out the kink in his shoulder and heading for the door.

Vin would probably be annoyed at being woken up- Well, no he wouldn't. He liked Dustil and would probably be more concerned at why the young Jedi Knight looked so tired.

_Stop feeling guilty, _he told himself. _You're going to tell him, and if he kicks you out, you'll go back to the city center._

_And never see Tova again._

Dustil sighed, wandering down the hallway and looking for Jaron Vin's room. It wasn't far from the archives, though set off in the corner of the house, like its construction had been an afterthought.

_And if Revan's angry…_

_Well, _let_ her be angry,_ he thought, clenching his jaw together. She would be a hypocrite if she was.

Dustil knocked firmly on Vin's door. No answer.

He tried again.

"You're a little late." The voice came from behind, not within. He whirled around, hand ready to reach for his lightsaber, but he forced it to hover at his side.

Jaron Vin stood before him.

"I know…I'm sorry about the hour, I just-"

"No," Vin's voice was hard, sharp, business-like. "I meant you're a little late for what you're here to do."

He shivered again, like he had in front of Uthar.

"You mean…you know what I am?"

"I know what you are." The monotone was very familiar; Dustil had heard it only hours ago when he had-

When he had _thought _he had successfully persuaded Vin that he hadn't seen Dustil kissing his daughter.

"For the record, Dustil, I wouldn't have minded you dating my daughter," Vin continued in that same administrative tone. "You're a very bright and talented young man. I might have asked you to wait until your investigation was over, but after that, you would have had my blessing."

He paused, moving to study a painting hanging on the wall. "Your tricks only work on the weak-minded. Grandfather Akiva taught me that much." He smiled sardonically for a moment. "Where did you think Tova got it from, hmm? Did you think I might be so easily swayed? You instantly showed yourself to be a Jedi with that little display."

"How could you lie to me?" Emotion crept back in and almost overwhelmed his host into a whisper. "How could you use my family like this?"

Dustil tried to stand up straight, folding his hands respectfully in front of him.

"I had no choice. We needed to investigate the Sith, your grandfather was the last link to them. You wouldn't have let me see his archives if you had known-"

"Of course I wouldn't have!" Vin broke in. "You're a Jedi! You would lead them right to us, you would put Tova, her sister, my wife; all of us in danger! And now…"

He didn't like how cold it was in the hallway, and he shivered again, wondering if it was just Vin's incredibly cold shoulder or the actual temperature.

"I understand if you want me to leave. But you know I would never let anything happen to Tova…or to you, or to the rest of your family."

Vin suddenly laughed brokenly.

"I believe that at least. I believe that you didn't _intend _for any harm to come to us." His host turned back towards him.

"But unfortunately Dustil, harm has come despite your efforts. I had hurried home from work and straight to the archives to tell you." His teeth clenched together.

"I _trusted_ you. I thought you were here to protect us, and all along you were leading them straight to my grandfather. I went to you with the intention of warning you, of trying to get your advice. What did I receive? The knowledge that you were a lying, cheating Jedi. Your hasty and clumsy efforts to protect your stolen kisses with my daughter. A poor payment for my hospitality. I'm sure your illustrious father would be ashamed of you."

He felt them in the house even before Vin said anything about it. Dustil pulled out his lightsaber, igniting it and staring down the hall, squinting at the dancing shadows near the door.

"They snuck into the city. They found me and told me…they told me they would murder my family if I didn't give them what they wanted. They wanted the archives. They wanted the knowledge of how to access them and understanding of what they contained."

Dustil watched four figures begin to outline in the shadows. He watched them grow larger as they stalked towards him.

_Don't panic, don't panic._

"You can't do this, Jaron," he hissed, moving in front of him, feeling them trying to pull his blade out of his hands, trying to knock him to the floor, trying to control him. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I told you from the very beginning, Dustil," Vin said hoarsely, shrinking back against the wall, the sight of Sith in the flesh enough to ruin his cold façade. "That I would let _nothing _endanger my family. Not even you."

His lightsaber shook in his hands. The four Sith that had come to collect him stepped into the dim lighting.

Dustil recognized the bald human who had helped to break his arm; the Twi'lek Revan had battled, now missing an arm. There were two more humans, one of them covered in rough black tattoos and the other a girl.

Their faces, scarred and ugly and lifeless, were not what identified them as Sith. It was what he could feel from them; things that were frightening familiar, old wounds that had never quite healed breaking open and bleeding once again.

"Don't do this!" he yelled to Vin, despite the fact that it was too late for his host to do anything about his choice. "You don't understand, they'll-"

His lightsaber broke free of his grip, slamming into the wall and falling to the floor, silent and harmless.

The tattooed Sith and the bald one lunged for him. Dustil tried to leap over them, but they had anticipated that and grabbed him mid-leap. They wrapped their arms around his like iron vices, yanking back hard. His injured shoulder felt like it was tearing all over again.

The girl pulled out a neural disruptor band, walking towards him.

The Twi'lek nodded towards Vin.

"You were wise to cooperate, Vin," His voice was oily, like Dustil imagined liquid would sound if it could speak. "I'd advise you never to try and hide anything related to the Jedi again. It may be the last thing you ever do."

Vin nodded quickly, terrified.

Dustil thought of screaming as he thrashed about, trying to get free of them.

_No, I'll wake up Tova, _he thought dimly, gritting his teeth and trying to move his head around where the Sith girl was trying to secure the neural disruptor band around his temples.

_Why haven't they killed me?_

One word sprung to mind as the Sith held his head in place and the neural disruptor was turned on, electrocuting him into darkness.

_Conversion._


	22. Chapter 22

_Bulkheads and computer consoles were dead giveaways. She was on a ship._

_But this was not the Star Forge; this was not a Sith battle cruiser. And she was not the commander. In fact, she had never been on this particular ship at all._

_"I don't have time for this, Malak," she sighed, exasperated. "The Sith have got Dustil, I have to get to him before-"_

_"Before they kill him?" he replied softly. "They don't intend to kill your Padawan, Revan."_

_He stood before the senior crew of whatever starship they were on, his robes fitted and straight, his skin a light shade of sand. He glanced at her momentarily, his eyes blue and his arms folded._

_This wasn't Lord Malak; this was Jedi Knight Malak, her friend. This ship was not part of the Sith fleet; it was part of the Republic._

_And she was not Lord Revan; she was herself, holding her daughter's hand. She smiled down at Celyn, who returned it, leaning into her and watching Malak shyly._

_The faces greeting Jedi Knight Malak were not unfamiliar or scarred by the jagged fingernails of the dark side; they were in Republic uniform._

_Malak nodded politely to each of them. She could feel that he was nervous without her being with him; having to greet a crew and give orders without her at his side._

_She could feel that he was guiltily happy about having control over _something.

_"Then what do they want? Did they know of the Republic when you and I found them? How did they stay hidden for so long-"_

_"You were always so impatient, Revan," Malak said, suddenly smiling. "If I stopped to tie my shoe as a child, you wouldn't wait for me."_

_She tried not to get angry at him; tried to remind herself that he wasn't doing this intentionally, that it all had some kind of purpose._

_Malak extended his hand to someone who stepped out in front of the other officers._

_It wasn't just someone; though to Jedi Knight Revan, who must have been off rallying more to her cause, he would have indeed been just another soldier._

_She watched as Malak shook hands with Captain Carth Onasi._

"In the fleet, we didn't see much of the Jedi. I only met Malak once, but I was impressed by him."

_He was younger, around thirty. The insignia of a commanding officer didn't quite match his clean-shaven cheeks and disarming smile._

_He looked happy in a way she rarely saw him; certainly had never seen him on Taris when she had first met him- quiet and scrubby._

His wife's still alive, _she thought dimly. _Dustil must only be a little kid.

_She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, watching as Malak sized him up._

_"Impressed by me?" He laughed. "At first I was a nervous wreck without you, Revan. You were the orator, the one with all the right words."_

_Time seemed to slow down- the hands of the two men barely moving._

_"You were somewhere…I can't remember where. You were still very angry about Anelli, about how your brother refused to support us. You would never tell me that, of course. I knew this because I knew you."_

_Malak paused, turning to look at her. _

_"Because I loved you."_

_He didn't sound bitter or regretful; only sad._

_"If I had known…If I had known…"_

It would be so easy, _she heard him think_. So easy to make him smaller, weaker-

_Malak's face was suddenly pale and contorted. His hand jerked violently; the muscles in his arm flexed._

_Carth screamed as his fingers popped out from in between Malak's; bloody and crooked and mangled-_

_She blinked, and the image was gone. Carth was still smiling, still shaking Malak's hand. Celyn grasped her robes, startled, but she didn't hide her face._

_Malak sighed._

_"The Sith you and I unearthed were indeed real, though the rest of the galaxy had become as large a myth to them as their existence was to us. They lacked the knowledge of how to find us, though it did not prevent our discovery of them. It was unfortunate for both the galaxy and the Republic that the Mandalore of years ago happened to find them first."_

_"Mandalore? What do the Mandalorians have to do with any of this?"_

_The ceremonial handshake had finished; Carth was saying something, but it was low and unintelligible, like background noise._

_"The Mandalorians thirst for battle, but they were never inclined towards controlling the galaxy and crushing the Republic. What changed their outlook? The influence of beings who believe that superiority as a whole is the first objective before individual gain."_

_So these Sith had somehow started the Mandalorian Wars. The wars that all the soldiers in front of her, Malak and Carth alike, were about to enter into. _

_The wars that would turn Malak into a Lord and Carth into a widower._

_"I can see why you like him, Revan," Malak murmured. "I liked him when I met him too. He was an able commander and an impressive example to the men serving under him."_

_Carth turned his head, gesturing to something that happened to be exactly where she was standing. She involuntarily moved out of the way._

_"A good man," her friend said softly. "Would he have betrayed you as I did? Would he have been 'heroic' or 'courageous' enough to strike you down if you had gone back to your old life?"_

_She shook her head. She couldn't deal with this right now; all she could think about was Dustil-_

_"But you will have to deal with it, Revan," Malak murmured, not even turning to watch her go, pulling Celyn along with her. "You will have to consider what effect these beings that have captured your Padawan have had on the galaxy, and what role you played in their resurrection."_

_He glanced at Carth._

_"And how it will affect your own."_

* * *

"Pretty planet," Jolee remarked as the _Chaser _flew over the dense forests and white peaks, towards the blue spires of Mikael.

_To hell with the scenery, _Katrina thought moodily. She'd chop down every tree on the surface if they were in the path to where the Sith had Dustil.

Inside her stomach, Celyn mimicked the violent attacks her hands were making on the controls of the ship with her feet.

_I feel you. I feel Bastila, I feel Jolee…I don't feel Dustil._

He had to be alive. It would be a cruel trick of the Force to keep giving her visions saying that no one intended to kill him only to find out that he had been dead all along.

"We've been given priority docking at the city center," Dathan murmured. "Phineas must have been notified."

_He's not only notified, he's angry. _She could feel him strongest of all; seething somewhere in the city center.

_These morons, _he shot loudly. Whether it was specifically directed towards her or not she didn't know. _They want me to mobilize the national guard and send them stomping into the forests. Idiots-_

They were met at the dock by a security team, the captain of which nodded perfunctorily at her and led them straight to Phineas's office without another word. She could hear Bastila and Jolee's steps quick and uneven behind her; struggling to keep up with the speed at which she was charging down the hall.

The double doors to his office were closed, and she pushed into them before the guards outside could open them for her. The noise echoed off of the tall glass windows overlooking the city, startling several officials standing around her brother's desk.

Her brother however, finished whatever he was doing before looking up at her.

_Force…sure you don't have more than one in there? _His eyebrows rose at her large stomach.

_And you harp on me for _my _greetings._

Phineas smiled softly.

"Bastila Shan," He nodded towards the Jedi. "I remember you."

"Regretfully always under unfortunate circumstances," Bastila replied as her brother shook Jolee's hand.

The old Jedi smiled crookedly, and whatever was passed between them was unspoken.

"Gentlemen," Phineas said. "If we could adjourn for a few moments so that I can meet with the Jedi?"

He clasped his hands behind him- and she couldn't help but remember the last time she had seen him in that pose. On Anelli, as a Sith.

_I'm sorry-_

_It's not your fault, s_he immediately replied.

"Dathan. You look horrible," her brother murmured as his advisors cleared the room.

"Geeze, Phin, I leave for a couple months and you let this place go entirely downhill," the doctor replied.

"We shouldn't waste anymore time, your Eminence," Jolee said. "The longer we don't know where the kid is, the more I feel like whatever rancor's nest he's got himself into is getting bigger and nastier."

She reached for her former Padawan again. There was nothing but the quiet hum of the air in Phineas's spacious office.

"How the hell did this happen, Phineas?"

"You're aware that he wasn't staying here."

She nodded. "He was with Vin somebody, researching Jedi Akiva Vin's records on past Sith activity on Chael."

"Jaron Vin. Local accountant. Akiva is his grandfather. Unfortunately for your apprentice, Jaron Vin has some rather stringent rules involving Jedi. Namely that he doesn't want them within a hundred meters of his home."

"He found out Dustil was a Jedi," Katrina finished.

Phineas nodded.

"Also unfortunately right after the Sith infiltrated the city, contacted him and threatened him with death unless he gave up any trace of the Jedi he had. There must be something important in those archives."

"Do we know anything more about these Sith? Who they are, the specifics?" Jolee asked.

Phineas shook his head.

For a moment she was overwhelmed with irritation and anger. _Just what the hell have you been doing the past seven months, Dustil?_

"At least, _I_ don't know anything more about them. Dustil decided to share his findings with someone else entirely." Her brother hit a control on the desk. "Send the girl in."

Katrina turned to see a young woman with blonde curly hair come through the doors. A pair of dark circles under her eyes and a red nose marred her otherwise pretty face.

She too eyed Katrina's protruding stomach for a moment, shifting two or three datapads between her hands.

"Jaron's daughter, Tova," Phineas murmured, gesturing to the girl.

Tova nodded. "It's an honor to meet you, Master Jedi." Her voice, direct and clear, didn't match the way she looked; tired and miserable.

"Tova's the one that let me know what had happened. She's deciphered the complete contents of Akiva Vin's archives, as well as recorded everything Dustil discovered on his own."

"Impressive," Bastila murmured.

The girl's smile looked like a bad imitation of someone who was glad to get the compliment.

"The Sith are hiding in an abandoned bronze mine, officially termed DB59. It's equipped with a hyperspace communications console, which they're using to receive messages from beings that are the closest living descendents of true Sith. The messages are believed to be originating from somewhere in the Unknown Regions. Before Dustil…"

His name slid out hoarse at first, but the girl recovered quickly.

"Before Dustil was captured, he had managed to open the last level of my grandfather's research. In it was an in-depth theory of what these ancient Sith in the Unknown Regions want, and what their designs on the Jedi and galaxy might be."

"These Sith aren't like Revan and Malak-"

"_It was not even glory that drove you and I down the dark path."_

Katrina forced herself not to respond to hearing her name.

"Or like the specialized assassins that have been terrorizing the Order for the past year. Long ago, Jedi who had defected from the Order discovered the insect-like creatures that used to be known as Sith and taught them the ways of the Force, creating Dark Jedi."

Jolee nodded. "Matches up with the official Jedi Archives."

"These ancient Sith operate under that mindset- that the Jedi gave them their power, and now they want to return the favor in a twisted sort of way. They believe that their supremacy must first be decided by sheer numbers and then individual competition."

"_For some, it is not the desire to wipe out the Jedi that drives these assassins today."_

"Conversion," Bastila finished.

'Manipulation' was a better word. 'Exploitation' fit in nicely. 'Slavery' brought it home; both to her and to Bastila.

"_What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them?"_

"Is that all the archives can tell us?" Jolee finally said.

"Pretty much. My grandfather also extrapolated on how these ancient Sith found their way back to this galaxy, but I wasn't entirely clear on what he meant. He also theorized that they've been influencing past political events, such as-"

"The Mandalorian Wars," Katrina interrupted.

_"Something drove them, Revan, but it was not their lost codes of arms."_

"We'll have to move quickly," Bastila said. "Dustil could be particularly susceptible to-"

"No, he isn't," Katrina said flatly.

She saw Juhani, pale and dead and disappearing on Anelli. Her brother looked up sharply.

_He almost fell back then. But he won't now. I know he won't._

The absence of the Cathar's reassurances or warm hand on her shoulder didn't help to convince her.

"I want to talk to this Jaron Vin."

Phineas raised an eyebrow.

"Jaron Vin's sitting in the city jail at the moment," he said, turning to the girl. "I can release him if you sign for his bail-"

"No," Tova snapped. "Let him rot in there."

Her venom came out of nowhere. Katrina certainly hadn't been expecting it from the business-like way the girl conducted herself; her readily prepared datapads and concise summarizations.

"Miss Vin, technically he's committed no crime and I have no evidence other than your testimony that he's done anything suspect. I can't hold him forever-"

"He gave Dustil to the Sith," Tova hissed.

_The way she says 'Dustil' is the way I say 'Carth'._

"What he did was unforgivable," the girl finished icily.

_I wasn't aware it was spring-time on Telos. _

She glanced over her shoulder at Jolee, who seemed to be fighting not to smirk despite the circumstances.

_First you and Carth, now Dustil…_

The story was suddenly blatantly obvious.

"Dustil wouldn't want you to hate your father for him," Katrina murmured.

Tova met her gaze. Her eyes were hostile, like Katrina was some plebian presuming to give a patrician advice.

"Trust me," she added.

"You can talk to him, but I don't know how cooperative he'll be. He either blubbers for hours on end or sits in complete silence," Phineas muttered, leading them out of his office and into the lift, which made a long journey down to the levels of the city holding cells.

The detention level was, understandably, much less pleasant than the upper levels. The walls were grey steel instead of the pale blue that made up the rest of the city. Low lightning cast their shadows long and thin against the metallic floor.

"You're his master, aren't you?" Tova Vin murmured behind her.

Old habits tried to remind her not to respond, not to give an obviously intelligent and inquisitive girl any bones to chew on. "What makes you say that?"

The girl eyed her stomach again. "No reason."

_Well, at least that means Dustil's not pretending you don't exist anymore, _she thought towards her daughter.

The prisoner was not blubbering on end when they reached his cell. He sat perfectly still in the corner, his hands folded in front of him and his feet together, only slightly slouched.

Jaron Vin looked sadly at them.

"You…must be his companions," he murmured, his lips dry even in the dim lighting of the cell, cracking open like they hadn't been used in years.

"That's the most he's said since we put him in here," Phineas remarked.

_There is no pity, there is no sympathy._

"Tell us what happened, Mister Vin," Bastila said. "Exactly what were the circumstances under which the Sith approached you?"

Vin looked beyond her and the rest of the Jedi to where his daughter stood glaring from the shadows. His eyes lit up in desperation. "Tova, please don't look at me like that-"

"How else am I supposed to look at you?" the girl snapped.

"Please, I never meant to hurt you-" Vin pleaded.

"No, of course not. You were more concerned with hurting Dustil."

"They would have killed you! Don't fool yourself into thinking he's some infallible knight in shining armor. They captured him easily-"

"Save it," Tova hissed. "Tell the Jedi what they want to know."

"I was on my way home from work," Vin began obediently. "It was dark, quiet, and lonelier in the streets than usual. It's this Sith threat that has everyone on edge. But I didn't worry. Why should I? I had a young man who was trained in dealing with that sort of threat under my roof."

He wrung his hands nervously, twiddling his thumbs together.

"But they came out of nowhere…four of them, three human, one of them female, and their self-appointed spokesmen, a one-armed Twi'lek. They surrounded me and forced me into an alleyway. I don't know how they managed to get inside the city without being detected…"

"Force persuaded their way past the guards," Phineas said.

_You see? If I had had better security measures in place-_

_You couldn't have known this was what they were planning, _Katrina reassured him firmly. _You didn't have anyone else on the planet who knows how to deal with them besides yourself and Dustil._

"They demanded my grandfather Akiva's archives. They demanded all the knowledge I possessed. I tried…I tried to tell them that I didn't know anything about them, that I couldn't have opened them even if I tried."

For the first time, Katrina noticed a large blistering welt on his throat- the sweet kiss of a lightsaber being held under someone's chin.

"They told me I had until midnight to collect the archives and anything else pertaining to their presence on the planet." He laughed bitterly. "But I didn't despair. Why should I? I had a young man who was supposedly there to protect my family…"

He trailed off, his face glowing a hot red. His gaze, which had been so fixed on his daughter, suddenly found the dusty floor and the blank walls of his cell infinitely more appealing.

"You betrayed him because he _kissed_ me." Tova's voice shook.

"He lied to us. All that time, Tova, he was a Jedi and he didn't tell us. He led them straight to our doorstep, straight to Grandfather Akiva-"

"He didn't mean to-"

"Even the best of intentions don't always prevent the worst from happening," Vin replied. "Yes, I told them I not only had the archives, but their translator. I gave them Dustil. I did it to protect you, Tova, to protect your mother and your sister too. They would have killed us and taken him anyways."

"I'm sorry that I cannot apologize to you for my actions," he murmured to Katrina. "But I did it to protect the people I love. I don't bear Dustil any ill will. But it was between him and my family's safety. And _nothing _was important enough to jeopardize that."

_The Sith must have sensed him those few times he ventured out into the wilds, _her brother added._ I should have followed up on him more closely. I should have checked in and made sure he wasn't in danger-_

_Phineas, this isn't your fault. _

Many other things were, she knew, but not this one.

"Did it ever occur to you, Jaron," she snapped, "That Dustil might have people who love him? That Dustil might have people who value his safety above all else?"

_Don't…_

The voice that called out to her was quiet. She might not even have noticed it if there wasn't such an uncomfortable and awkward silence hanging over the air.

_Don't yell…just trying to protect Tova…_

The voice was familiar, although tired and weak.

"Dustil?" she said out loud. Tova Vin inhaled sharply behind her.

_He didn't…He couldn't have known…what they were going to do._

And he talked as though whatever the Sith were intending to do they had already done.


	23. Chapter 23

Happy KOTORII for PC day, everyone! Feel free to spoil me now…

* * *

At first, Dustil had simply gritted his teeth. 

_I'm better than this._

They had started with rudimentary tactics; things he had been taught within his first few weeks at the Academy. Lightning bolts and invisible hands assaulting the pressure points on his head, kid stuff.

Things were so familiar…the mine he woke up in, gray, blue and white (practically clean compared to the caverns on Korriban and Anelli); an almost carbon copy of the one Engineer Cham had given him a tour of. The hyperspace communications console, immaculate like it was a shrine to their gods. The darkness that clogged his lungs and his veins every second he spent in here was, sadly, very familiar.

_I'm a Jedi Knight. I'm better than this._

At first, he had been cocky.

There were a total of six Sith, including the ones that had captured him. They had completely ignored him for a few minutes, crowding around their computer console and rifling through the archives.

He had felt irritation that all his hard work had been for nothing, that they had ended up getting the archives and him anyways.

_It wasn't my fault! It was Jaron's-_

_No, _he thought firmly, recognizing how he was changing even before the Sith had started trying to convert him. _He was just trying to protect Tova. He couldn't have known._

Her face, her hair, her smile slipped into his thoughts and he silenced it, pushing it away. He didn't want them to be able to use her against him- he didn't want her to even enter into their minds.

"We aren't entirely certain of how to do this, Lien," the girl had murmured. Her voice was a breathy alto, like someone trying too hard to be seductive.

"We've tried before- these ancient Jedi archives aren't telling us anything new," the bald human sneered.

"We are wasting time with this bickering and debate," the Twi'lek had finally announced. "Let's begin."

They had all approached him in a wide circle, like some kind of primitive tribe.

_Don't you realize how stupid and wrong this is? Why can't you see it?_

"This one is different."

_Why couldn't I see it?_

"I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work." He was happily surprised at how calm he had kept his voice.

Even though inside he was straining to keep all of his shields up, pushing everything and everyone he ever loved to the deepest reaches of his thoughts, trying to keep his mind completely blank.

The Twi'lek with one arm (Revan had cut the other one off, he remembered now) had shot the first lightning bolt into his chest.

It tickled at first, and then burned icy and cold across his skin, making his muscles spasm and his veins itch.

_Focus on it, focus on the lightning itself, not what it's doing to you. Then it doesn't hurt as much._

_I'm a Jedi Knight, I'm Dustil Onasi, I'm better than this._

_"Dustil," Uthar sneered, and for a moment Dustil thought he could see actual smoke rising from his Master's fingertips. "You are a fool."_

"Your name is Dustil." the Twi'lek said in triumph. "Dustil Onasi."

"Your name is Lien," Dustil breathed. "Although I'd prefer to call you scum."

He could sense all of them as easily as they could sense him. He knew exactly what barriers to move around; what tricks they were using.

Lien smirked.

"I recognize the name, Dustil, even though we've been in these caves for a very long time."

He had thought they were all young, like him, but looking at the Twi'lek's scarred face, Dustil would put him more around his father's age.

"Yes, like your father."

They had all closed their eyes.

_The cave disappeared. He was back on Korriban, in his room, with his father, Revan, and Juhani._

_He hadn't known her as Revan then; only the Jedi who was sleeping with his father. He hadn't known Juhani as Master then either; only a Cathar who was so quiet he forgot she had been there at all._

You're going to show me this again? _Dustil had been so surprised and relieved that he'd almost laughed._

Believe me, this is my strongest incentive _not_ to turn back.

_"Touch me, old man, and I'll kill you." He watched himself say. "Get out! Get out of here before I tell the Sith that you're here!"_

_He watched himself look at Revan._

_"You don't want to do that, Dustil."_

This…didn't happen. She didn't say anything. That's why I couldn't-

_Revan gripped her lightsaber, staring him down._

_"Trust me."_

_Dustil watched his once-brown eyes turn almost maroon, almost red, almost become eyes that no longer bore any resemblance to his own._

_"You fought for yourself. For glory."_

I didn't say that…I wanted to, but I didn't-

_"Well, the Sith can do that too. We learn to fight, and to kill. You want to see what I've learned, Father?"_

_Dustil realized with horrifying clarity that he was about to watch himself kill Carth Onasi._

_"No, Dustil, don't," His father was holding up his hands slowly, carefully, like Dustil was a bomb that might explode. "I don't want to-"_

This didn't happen, _he reminded himself forcefully. _I didn't do this, I made the right choice-

_"Too late, old man-" If he wanted to, Dustil could lip sync the words perfectly._

_He remembered hoarding them since the rubble on Telos, from grungy port to grungy port, through the stone doors of Korriban to the lightning bolts of Uthar and Yuthura._

_"You should have left when you had the chance."_

This didn't happen. I didn't kill Father-

_Dustil watched himself pull out his lightsaber, watched the way it flickered and glowed against the walls of the Academy._

_It reflected on his father's face, outraged and frightened and sad all at once. It made Juhani jump from where she stood quiet and still behind Revan._

_The red mixed with the extended green blade in front of Revan; the only one who wasn't afraid._

_Dustil watched as he lunged towards his father._

_And he watched as Revan blocked him easily, sliding her blade across his chest in an effortless, graceful motion that he would have almost admired had it not killed him instantly._

But this is what would have happened if I had tried.

_He heard his father's anguished cry, watched him rush to his side, hold his lifeless body in his arms._

_He watched Revan quietly silence her lightsaber, replace it on her belt, and cautiously look down the hall, making sure no other Sith had been alerted._

* * *

"Only one or two kilometers left," Bastila murmured, untangling her hair from another branch. 

Katrina didn't think she could go one or two more kilometers and still have the energy to fight, but she wasn't about to mention that to anyone.

Hell, they had already wasted enough time arguing over it back at the city center. Phineas had tried first:

_I'm going with you, Revan. _She gave him a withering stare.

_You can't even aim a blaster, Phineas._

_You think I'm going to fall back too-_

_No one's going to fall, _she replied firmly. _But we've got enough problems without endangering His Eminence the Mayor of Mikael too._

Her brother had ended his argument there.

"You aren't going to start begging to go too, are you?" Katrina had shot towards Tova Vin, who stood silently in the corner.

"I'm no Jedi. I would only get in your way," the girl replied calmly.

"Dustil's a lucky kid," Jolee had murmured. The girl blushed in spite of herself. "We'll make sure to remind him of it."

"You're not going," Dathan had snapped, barring her way. "Five or six months ago, maybe. But not now."

She had all her weapons, she had gathered her Jedi, she had heard Dustil. And _now _he was trying to keep her from going.

"You're wasting my time. More importantly, you're wasting Dustil's time," Katrina snapped. "I have Bastila Shan and Jedi Master Jolee Bindo with me. I'm…"

She swallowed her name, eying Dustil's girl for a minute.

"I'm a Jedi Knight too. That's the whole reason I left this planet- so that if this happened, I wouldn't be forced to do something stupid."

"You're about to do something very stupid anyways."

Dathan's hand was suddenly gripping her arm, much gentler than the tone of his voice.

"If you happen to fall the wrong way, even take one blow to the stomach, that's it," he hissed. "No medicine, whether by my hands or yours, is going to fix it."

Her daughter didn't kick. She was sleeping, and she didn't have any idea what kinds of battles were being fought over her.

"He's Carth's son," she said quietly. "I can't trade his child for mine."

_I won't have to, _she told herself, wishing Celyn was awake. _I'll save them both._

_I didn't do this…_

She heard Dustil's voice, faraway even though they were getting closer to him with every step they took.

_We're coming, Dustil. Whatever they're doing, ignore it._

_You shouldn't be out here…isn't it bad for…_

His voice was subdued and tight. She didn't know if he was unable to continue because it was still awkward to speak of her daughter, or because he was in pain.

_You think I'm going to let anything happen to you? Your father would feed me to some firaxian sharks and never look back._

_Like he should have the minute he met you. _His voice was suddenly nasty. It came out of nowhere, blindsiding her, so physically jarring that she actually stopped in her tracks. _Like he should have the minute he found out you destroyed planets, attacked the Republic, killed millions, killed my mother-_

_Wait…no, I'm sorry. No, he wouldn't, _Dustil replied weakly.

"_You answer to the name, Revan, but do you answer for what you've done?"_

"They're doing something to him," she murmured to Bastila. "Controlling him or brainwashing him or something-"

"Or they may just be reminding him of all the reasons he became a Sith."

"Those won't work," Katrina said. "He's past all that."

"_If he's anything like he used to be, Dustil hates to be tricked. There's no way he'll let the Sith trick him again."_

It wasn't so much that the Sith tricked you. It was that they made you trick yourself. How many times had she been quick to kill before finding out the full story? How often had she been impatient and demanding?

_And that was before I became a Lord. Before I led the Sith fleet. That was when I was a Jedi._

She was arrogant; Malak had followed her. Dustil had been full of hate, Phineas had been bitter and sad.

But they had all conquered it, hadn't they? How did you go about turning people back to a side they knew was wrong? How had Malak gone about-

"I wanted power," Bastila interrupted flatly. "Malak showed me power. I was too curious about the dark side for my own good; he offered a guided tour. There were no methods, Revan. I was weak."

Katrina grasped the Jedi's shoulder for a moment, half to comfort her, half to support herself as she stepped over a large tree root.

_That little blonde you picked up would probably publish some kind of scathing expose on me if I don't bring you back, _she added towards Dustil, who had grown silent again.

She could tell he simultaneously wanted the comfort of thinking of the girl but also didn't want to possibly endanger her by letting his feelings in.

_I'm kind of partial to you staying alive too, Dustil. _She hoped it meant something to him.

She felt his pain, sharp and stabbing in her ribs.

_You would have killed me!_

_Is he talking about me, _she wondered.

_No Dustil, _she tried to call to him. _I wouldn't kill you…_

She got no response.

* * *

Lien and the others fell back, drowsy with their own power as the images before Dustil's eyes began to fade and he found that he was back in the abandoned mine on Chael. 

It apparently took all of their combined strength to make him see things that had never happened, try and convince him of actions that he didn't think people were capable of.

"Your master would have killed you."

"You want me to hate her, don't you?" He laughed bitterly. "She would have been right to kill me if I had tried to…"

What would have been worse? To watch him successfully kill his father, kill his current and his past Jedi Masters?

_That would have only made me more angry at the Sith. It wouldn't have worked and they know that._

He forced his way through the clouds, forced himself not to think what was the inevitable conclusion after watching that:

That he could think of about ten better reasons to hate Revan.

_But I don't hate her…She's my master. She saved me from falling again. She helped Father find me. _

_I'm Dustil Onasi. I'm better than this. I'm a Jedi Knight._

"You think you're going to destroy the Jedi like this?" Dustil taunted. "You were doing a better job trying to kill them. All you're going to accomplish with these tactics is make them angry."

Lien the Twi'lek smiled briefly as the circle reformed.

"Exactly."

_At first, Dustil couldn't understand what had changed. It was still dark, smoky, full of pain and suffering._

_He recognized the rubble. He recognized the building it was trickling out of._

That's our house, _Dustil realized. _That's our old house, on Telos.

_He shivered. He had seen this nightmare enough. It would definitely not be pleasant to watch again, but it wasn't going to turn him to the dark side. In fact, watching his mother die only made him ashamed that he had ever joined the group that had killed her in the first place._

_He finally spotted her, half crushed by parts of their own house, limp and quiet. He could hear her ragged breathing._

_Morgana Onasi laid waiting for the end to come without crying or screaming or wailing for help._

Father's coming, _he thought sorrowfully although she couldn't hear him. _He didn't come for me, but he did come for you.

At the end, _he thought, frowning._ Too late, as usual-

_Dustil struggled to clear his head. This memory was dangerous; this memory already had enough reasons for him to let hate take him over again without whatever modifications they would make to it._

_He heard the shouting of soldiers descending on the ruined colony. Out of the rising smoke from the ruins he saw the figure of his father come sprinting up to their house. _

_He was covered in soot, grime, dirt and blood. His eyes were wild, his helmet gone, his flight suit rumpled, his hair stringy and falling in his face._

_He must have been looking for them, because he spotted Dustil's mother in an instant._

_Dustil watched him tear through the rubble, tossing large rocks he hadn't known his father had the strength to lift right over his shoulders like they were pebbles._

_He watched him reach Morgana, cradle her in his arms. What they said to one another was blurry and indistinct._

They've already captured me, _he thought, feeling a twinge of jealousy. _I'm gone and he was too late.

_He watched and waited for his father to scream for the medics._

_He watched as his father took out his blaster._

Why is he taking out his weapon? He held her until she died, he yelled for medics until he had no voice left. This isn't how it happened.

_He watched as his father put his blaster to his mother's head and fired._

_Dustil shrieked, loud and piercing and in pitches he hadn't been able to hit since childhood._

That's not what happened! He would never, ever do that…

"You don't know," Lien murmured. "You weren't there."

* * *

Katrina stumbled over another tree branch as the sound of Dustil's anguished scream hit her everywhere that it hurt. 

"Even I could hear that one," Jolee said gravely. "These Sith must be using tactics beyond our imagination."

_Dustil-_

_That didn't happen, _he snarled back.

_What didn't happen? Whatever it is, they're trying to trick you-_

_I know what they're trying to do…He would never do that._

'He' had to be Carth. There was no other 'He' in Dustil's life.

_Your father loves you, Dustil-_

_Even if that never happened, that still doesn't change what did! That doesn't change that he gave up on us years before, that he was never there, never cared to be there, didn't consider us until it was too late-_

Katrina gripped her lightsaber tightly, like Dustil's demons were tangible and she might murder them as easily as she planned to murder the Sith who were unleashing them on her Padawan.

_You've already forgiven him, Dustil. Things are better now; those days are over-_

_We were nothing to him; the Sith at least gave me a life. He didn't give me a second's notice-_

_Get that bantha fodder out of your damn head right now, Padawan, _she snapped at him, the mental equivalent of slapping him across the face.

Dustil was silent for a moment.

_Just hold on, Dustil. We're almost there-_

_I can't do this, I can't-_

_Stay calm. Remember the Code-_

_The fracking Code is not going to help!_

Katrina quickened her pace, hacking more violently through the underbrush. This wasn't like Dustil. Dustil didn't panic; Dustil got angry.

Which was probably why he was panicking.

_You're a Jedi, _she reminded him.

_I thought I was just a Padawan, _he replied quietly.

_If these aren't Trials, kid, I don't know what is. _

* * *

"That…never…happened," Dustil growled. 

"It's not working, Lien," the tattooed human had hissed. "We cannot match their power. We shouldn't even attempt-"

"And what will they think if six of us working together cannot turn a boy who fell so easily the first time? They will crush us like they will crush the Jedi," Lien snapped, panting from the effort.

It had been harder for them that time; to take a person Dustil felt so strongly about and make him perform an action that wasn't even believable.

_Even if she'd begged him. Even if she'd been delirious and in pain and tried to get him to do that, he never would have. _

He could feel Revan and Master Jolee getting closer, Bastila Shan too.

_Sure, he might have left us to die on Telos, missed half my birthdays and half his anniversaries with Mom, but the one thing you can say for him is that he would never have-_

_I am Dustil Onasi. My father is Carth Onasi. I've forgiven him._

_I'm a Jedi Knight, and I'm better than this._

"You're getting weak, Dustil," the Sith girl had murmured.

"Makes you feel better about your failure if you tell yourself that; doesn't it, sister?"

Dustil was surprised at how he was still shooting back the one-liners even now, when his bones ached and his head was pounding and he didn't think he could take one more assault.

_They're not doing this to me again. Not again._

"We won't have to do it again," Lien replied. "Not after this."

_He steeled himself for the worst; for more mindless killing, for watching Revan kill his father (knowing that that would never happen either), for watching Juhani die for the thousandth time, for seeing people dying, screaming, falling, bleeding-_

_But he wasn't deposited in the charred ruins of his home or the deathly silence of the Korriban Sith Academy. He was back in Mikael, in a very familiar place- Akiva Vin's archives._

Fracking hell…

_Dustil squinted, clenching his jaw, trying so hard to keep them out, keep them away from-_

_From Tova, who sat at the computer console, crying and working at the same time._

Don't cry, _he tried to tell her. But she couldn't hear him, and she kept on transferring the archives, writing up reports._

Just try, _he taunted. _Just _try _and do something to her. I'll kill you. I'll kill every single one of you-

_No. That's what they were trying to do now; they were trying to get him angry, they were trying to create new reasons for him to hate. The old ones weren't working._

This didn't happen. Whatever they show me, no matter how real it looks, this didn't happen.

_Dustil gritted his teeth against them like he had against their lightning bolts. Nothing was going to make him turn, nothing-_

_His control broke in surprise as he watched the doors to Akiva's archives break open, and his own wasted body tossed onto the floor._

_Tova grasped his burned hands, afraid to go any further than that. The Sith filed into the archive room, dragging Jaron Vin with them._

_Vin was pleading, begging with them, but Dustil already knew the Sith weren't going to listen._

"You're Dustil Onasi. You're a Jedi Knight," Lien sneered. "Open your eyes. A Jedi Knight could not have prevented this."

_He watched himself roll over groggily. He watched the Sith offer him a chance to strike them down. He watched himself stubbornly refuse._

Good, that's right, like a Jedi should. I'm not going to fall again-

_He watched as the Sith then lopped off Jaron Vin's head._

_Tova shrieked, the only sound in the whole silent feature, crawling over him to where her father's decapitated body lay._

_He watched them walk towards her, surround her._

Even if they…even if they hurt her, this didn't happen, _he repeated over and over._

"Do you know this for sure?" He couldn't tell whose voice it was anymore. "How do you know this isn't what happened? You don't remember anything from when the neural disruptor was put on up until waking up in this cave."

"Turn back, Dustil. This is the kind way, the merciful way. The values you Jedi so espouse. See what their control and their stoic ways have cost you."

This…this might have happened. Could have happened.

You idiot, _he screamed at himself, lying dumbfounded on the floor of Akiva Vin's study. _Get up, get your weapon. They're going to hurt her, you have to stop them…kill them, you have to kill them-

_He watched them fight him off easily, throwing both him and his weapon to the corners of the room, slamming him into a bookcase that fell on him, trapped him, put meters between him and Tova._

_Tova, who was being hammered from all sides with icy blue lightning bolts._

_He had one hand free; he had one way to save her, and it was to clench his fingers around the throat of the Twi'lek he now knew was called Lien. _

I'll fall, I'll fall again, I can't-

_He watched as Tova died._

* * *

_Tell me she's all right, _Dustil suddenly snapped at her. 

'She' had to be the girl, Tova.

_She's fine, Dustil, _Katrina reassured him.

_You're lying. You think if you tell me, I'm going to be lost forever, is that it?_

She bit her tongue on the numerous things she wanted to say; that he was being stupid, that he was falling for these lies again- things that would only make him angrier.

Her back ached and her feet felt like they were dragging a couple pounds of Corellian ore, but Katrina kept cutting through the forests after Bastila, who led the way.

Finally the overgrown trail, used long ago by miners and workers going to and from the caves, ended in a large clearing outside the cave's smooth face.

Parts of her wanted to go rushing in, sprint through the tunnels, swinging her lightsaber like the heroes in the holovids.

Other parts of her, awakening from their slumber, rolled over against her stomach and reminded her that she couldn't trade her child for Dustileither.

"Here." Bastila handed her her lightsaber. "More of a weapon. More protection."

She nodded gratefully to the Jedi, exchanging weapons with her and testing the weight of Bastila's double blade in her hands.

_This probably isn't good for the baby._

"I know you're tired of hearing this. Too bad, because I'm going to give you my two credits worth," Jolee murmured as they began walking into the dark tunnels of the cave. "If you're in trouble, get out. I don't want any ridiculous sacrifices or foolish Jedi ideals getting in your way-"

Bastila eyed him disapprovingly but said nothing.

"If the kid's lost…" Jolee said quietly. "We'll deal with that later. You're not going to win any prizes for heroism if you kill two people trying to save one."

For once, the old Jedi's meanings were easy to decipher.


	24. Chapter 24

Katrina nervously practiced switching Bastila's lightsaber from hand to hand, making twirling motions and imaginary swings with the hilt as they moved through the tunnels.

She couldn't help but watch the Jedi in front of her holding Katrina's blade and feel jealous. The green reflected perfectly off the smooth, slick face of the rocks around them, turning Bastila's badly dyed blonde hair a neon lime.

_I wanted to pretend she was you, Revan. Bastila was like you; powerful, beautiful, drunk with pride-_

She scoffed incredulously, both out loud and in her mind.

_Malak, now is definitely not the time._

_This time I'm going to help you, Revan, _Malak murmured, undeterred._ Whether you like it or not._

She couldn't hear any noise echoing down the tunnels, no screaming or the sizzling of flesh. She didn't know if that was good or bad. All she knew was that she could feel Dustil, and he was alive.

But he wasn't calling to her.

_But Bastila wasn't you, and she became merely the means to an end, the means to getting you to come charging through the doors of the Star Forge, ready to face me._

_We all lied to ourselves, Revan. The dark side is full of denial, lies, trickery, and deception. It's the only way we commit atrocities; by convincing ourselves that they aren't._

The tunnels were lined with supplies and empty storage bins. Katrina wondered where they were getting them from. There was no maze to wander through- the tunnel was a straight shot to the back of the mine, to wherever they had Dustil.

Times like these made her wish Carth was behind her with his blasters.

_Times like these- Hell, who am I kidding. I wish Carth was here all the time._

She forced herself to stop touching her stomach. Maybe if she didn't pay any attention to it, the Sith might just assume she happened to be an out-of-shape Jedi.

_That's what they're trying to do to your Padawan, Revan. They're trying to convince him that what he knows isn't important, and what he doesn't know is far more frightening._

They were coming closer and closer to the end of the path. The light at the end of the tunnel shone white and clean and clichéd, inviting them to step in.

She heard the sounds of lightsabers coming to life. She extended Bastila's, the long yellow blades glowing twice the length of her own body in front of her.

Katrina inhaled, and then followed Bastila and Jolee.

At first, the Sith didn't notice her. They seemed exhausted, leaning back on various tables and consoles, breathing deeply. She spotted Dustil, limp and ragged on the floor of the cave.

_One, Two…Six. Six against three. The odds aren't good._

_The odds were never in your favor, Revan, _Malak murmured. _But you never let that stop you before._

Admittedly she felt better with his voice in her head; his presence comforting like it had been on Anelli, watching her mother die; like it had been on countless PR meetings during the Mandalorian Wars; like it had been being denied twice by her own brother.

Like it had been on her command ship, surrounded by the Jedi, facing her own death.

"Jedi…" one of the Sith breathed, whirling around to face them.

"Why couldn't we sense them?"

"Possibly because you were more concerned with the young man passed out on your floor," Jolee called out. "Looks like you overdid it."

"Should we-"

"No." The Twi'lek that interrupted the girl was familiar, as was the long scar on his shoulder where she had sliced off his arm months ago. "One is enough to prove ourselves. Kill them."

The Sith pulled out their weapons, hurtling towards Katrina, Bastila, and Jolee.

_There were five of them, and one of her. But she only laughed in their faces, watching the expression on Jedi Bastila Shan go from righteous exhilaration to annoyance._

_"Give up, Revan. You cannot win," the Jedi hissed._

Three of them descended like a horde upon Bastila. Her attacks seemed a little off, like she wasn't entirely accustomed to using a weapon that wasn't hers. The Jedi leapt over all of them, making a wide sweeping circle with Katrina's lightsaber that forced the Sith to duck.

_She ignored them for a moment, assessing the state of her bridge and her officers. The officers were all dead, the bridge a graveyard of smoking conduits and burning consoles._

_Having received no answer, the Jedi Bastila lunged towards her, and she parried her attack easily._

_She wasn't afraid. Her fleet was decimating the Republic. The loss of her command ship would be regrettable, but inconsequential. The Star Forge would only take a few days to churn out a new one, after all._

The bald human sprinted to where she stood near the entrance to the cavern, slamming his blade hard over her head. She reached up to counter it with Bastila's lightsaber, finding that she had misjudged the balance of a double blade. The Sith's blade slid clumsily off the right end, grazing her leg.

Things would be so much easier if she could move, if she could run and jump and take physical punishment.

_There are no misplaced priorities. I can't trade one for the other._

Apprentice, _she called, striking down one of the Jedi. _Send a shuttle to my ship. I'll abandon it and take command of yours.

_Malak didn't answer. She frowned against the beads of sweat forming on her mask, striking savagely at another Jedi, wounding him on his leg. The Jedi fell to the floor with a loud wail of pain._

Malak, _she snapped over the parsecs of space and the din of battle separating them. If she wanted to, she could turn around and gaze out the windows of her ailing command ship and find his own, maybe even make out the outline of his figure standing on the bridge._

Jolee grunted loudly as the female Sith held out her hand, shoving him into a nearby pile of footlockers and storage containers. They tumbled over the old Jedi's head, leaving him buried for a few seconds.

The bald human came at her again, and she instinctively pushed him away. He recovered quickly and flung his lightsaber at her. He may not have meant to, but it curved directly towards her stomach. Katrina caught it and tossed Bastila's towards him instead.

She tried not to take too much satisfaction from the clean way it lopped the Sith's bald head from his shoulders.

_That's one._

_The Jedi Bastila Shan stepped in front of the other Jedi, her lightsaber drawn and her face drawn tight. _

You're displeasing me, Malak, _she thought against towards her apprentice, who had still not answered her._

_As if the Force could be switched off as easily as a containment field, she suddenly could no longer feel Malak. His anger, his hate, his darkness was gone. Her own rushed to compensate, making her grip her weapon and grind her teeth._

Bastila yelped as a flurry of blue lightning socked her in the chest. She stumbled backwards, barely blocking an attack from a human covered in rough black tattoos.

Every instinct in Katrina's seasoned veteran body told her to sprint towards the three Sith circling Bastila. If she was quick enough, she could take two of them out in an instant-

Her daughter was panicking in her stomach, unless it was just her own nervous nausea. _You're all right. I'll make sure you're all right._

Bastila gritted her teeth, blonde hair coming loose from where it was tied back behind her head. Sweat made it fall together in clumps, flopping around and exposing the Jedi's dark brown roots.

The Jedi slid between the feet of one of her attackers, rising and slicing him cleanly across his lower back.

_That's two._

Apprentice…_she called again. His presence was instantly back, overwhelming her; painful and sad, angry and stoic all at the same time._

_He was loyal. He believed in her. He would follow her to the end._

_She heard him give the order even though it was across space and blaster fire, even though the various deaths of her own men and the Republic outside her window._

Malak!

_If she had let the name slip from her mouth out loud, it would have been in tones that she hadn't used for years; high and gentle and frightened._

Jolee moved quickly in front of the two Sith that were headed for her. They rained merciless blows over the old Jedi's head, one after the other as rapid as blaster fire.

She raised her hand, trying to push them away from him. They resisted, but her effort was enough to throw both off balance, giving Jolee the moment he needed to run his lightsaber across the female Sith's neck.

Her body twisted unnaturally, trying to follow the direction of her half severed head as she fell lifeless to the floor.

_That's three. We're three against three now. That's at least fair._

_He was going to kill her. _

_She realized it even as it seemed as unimaginable as changing the laws of hyperspace. Why not? It was as inconceivable as everything else they had done; crushing the Republic, destroying the Jedi Order, unearthing a mythical weapon of galactic proportions, going from the two heroes of the Mandalorian Wars to the lord and apprentice of the new Sith fleet._

_Malak, her apprentice, her servant, her disciple- her _friend_, was going to kill her._

She slammed Bastila's lightsaber up against the Twi'lek, who pressed down over her head, his single arm straining with the effort.

"I can see that we are both handicapped," he murmured, glancing at her stomach.

_Just _try. _Just try and do something to her. I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you-_

"You must be proud, playing gofers and lapdogs for a bunch of ancient Sith thousands of parsecs away," she shot back, trying to look past him to where Dustil lay. "I didn't know leashes could stretch that far."

The Twi'lek swung at her again, forcing her to jump to avoid having her feet cut out from under her. She landed unsteadily, tottering for a moment before her dizziness went away.

"There is something strange about you, Jedi. They might have rewarded us further if we had managed to turn you and not the boy."

Fear- for herself, for Celyn, for Dustil, made her attack him again instead of backing off and looking for a way out like she was supposed to.

_Her lips trembled behind her mask, though the Jedi could not sense anything was amiss. _

_Until the first shots hit the ship, sending chain reactions that blew up critical wiring and sent her ship into a cacophony of alarms and alert sirens._

_Until there was a flash of red and white, burning like no lightning could produce._

_Until everything went dark and she woke up on the_ Endar Spire

The Twi'lek smashed his fist and the hilt of his lightsaber across her face. Katrina stumbled back, stars and tiny planets floating in front of her eyes for a moment. Blood flowed from her nose into her mouth.

She tripped over a few scattered tools, falling onto her back.

Maternal instincts and Jedi instincts contradicted each other as she dropped Bastila's lightsaber and put her hand protectively over her stomach, even as her other hand tried to reach over and find her weapon again.

"_Mommy?"_

_Mommy's an idiot, Celyn._

Jolee had been forced into a corner. He quickly raised a hand to try and help her in some way, but the Sith in front of him grazed his fingers. He barely held onto his weapon as the scent of his burning flesh hit her nostrils.

Bastila had no weapon; Katrina couldn't see her lightsaber anywhere on the floor and wondered if it had been tossed over a ledge in another section of the cave. The Jedi scurried around and over the Sith's attacks.

Bastila's lightsaber, buried in gravel a few meters from Katrina's head, shook free and flew into Katrina's hands.

She ignited the weapon, slamming it through the Twi'lek's stomach. He fell forward onto Bastila's blade, and Katrina's arms shook with the effort of heaving him off of her. He coughed once and went limp, and she lifted her feet to kick him to the side.

Katrina tossed the weapon to Bastila, who effortlessly extended it and killed the Sith threatening her.

_That's five-_

Jolee shoved the Sith he had just killed off of his shoulder, where he had fallen as the old Jedi stabbed him.

_That's six._

Both Jedi moved to help her up.

_Dustil. _

He didn't answer, either verbally or mentally. Katrina stepped over the dead bodies of the Sith, ignoring (for now) the large hyperspace communications console that undoubtedly held all the answers, ignoring the way the tunnel kept going into the depths of the mine and probably ended in the wilds, where a ship was probably hidden.

She rolled him over, shaking him gently. He was soaked in his own sweat, heavy with the weight of a Jedi trance.

"He's alive, Revan," Bastila said reassuringly, checking him for wounds.

"I'm trying to bring him out of it," Jolee murmured. "It's not your typical pass-out-from-the-pain kind of trance."

_Something started all this, Revan. If you want to end it, you have to find out what did._

Katrina left Dustil under the hands of Jolee and Bastila, crossing to the computer console.

Akiva Vin's archives were strewn across its surface in the form of various datapads; she doubted they had been very important to the Sith. She turned to the console screen.

"There's messages here," she called over her shoulder. "Dozens of messages from the true Sith."

_It would only take one of us to turn a Jedi, even the most powerful of them. You will have to use your combined strength to bring them home. Their ideals blinded them to the truth. You must change their perception of it._

They were vague and grandiose in their transmissions, and she imagined it must have frustrated the Sith hiding on Chael for years.

_They killed the other Jedi…they must have just figured out what it was the true Sith wanted them to do, or at least just figured out how to do it._

It didn't say much for their success rate. She glanced over her shoulder hopefully at Dustil.

_They were cut off from the galaxy for thousands of years, Revan, _Malak said. _It's no surprise that their communication skills seem to be lacking. You aren't here to find out what they are or how they function- that will come later._

She moved back in the history of transmissions; back to the first few, dated around the time she and Malak had become lords.

_You ask if we think you should join her._

_She contacted us and provided us with the means to reply. She connected us with the galaxy once more, so that we were no longer doomed to stay here, stagnant and powerful, only influencing those who wandered into our sector of space._

_The Mandalorians were no challenge- it is the Jedi we desire. She knows nothing of this. She desires rule over the galaxy and dominion over the Republic. She does not understand._

_Do not join her; with Lord Revan's unwitting help, soon there will be mightier beings returning to the galaxy._

_You contacted them without my knowledge, Revan, _Malak said bitterly, having been denied her secrets again._ You gave them subspace coordinates and hyperspace communication information. They had lost all this long ago, but you gave them the means to return to the galaxy. It was your intention to learn their power before they ever got a chance to supplant you._

_You didn't tell me. You didn't tell anyone. _Her friend's voice grew soft._ However, as I said before, you never followed through on your plans. My treachery denied you the chance._

Katrina hurried back to Dustil's side. She struggled to think of what might have frozen Dustil like this, what might have paralyzed him somewhere between becoming one with the Force and turning to the dark side.

_You would have killed me!  
__That didn't happen.  
__Tell me she's all right._

She grasped his hand, still unable to do it without thinking of Carth for a split-second.

_This is the truth, Dustil. This isn't what they've made you think has happened. This is what _will _happen._

* * *

_Dustil found himself back on Telos._

_Well, not Telos, technically. He hadn't been on the planet's surface for a long time. He was on the Citadel._

What's going to happen now? Is Revan going to turn back, destroy the station? Am I going to come back from here and hunt down my father?

_He shuddered, noticing that whatever camera controlled these images the Sith were giving him was roaming through their apartment, to where his father sat at his desk._

_He looked older; hell, his father always looked old. Except when he smiled, like he was doing now, despite the mountains of datapads, energy shields, and a pair of blasters cluttering up his desk._

_Dustil watched him reach under his desk and pull out a little girl, giggling and squirming in his father's grasp._

_Her father too. That had to be the kid. The half-Revan, half-Onasi kid._

More Revan than Onasi, _he thought, trying and failing to give the kid a dirty look. It was harder to be grossed out by a cute little girl than a twinkle in his father's eye._

That was me once, _he sighed. _A long time ago, before he left-

_Dustil watched as Carth rose from his chair, heading to answer the door. He cringed. _

This is where it happens. This is where I slaughter my father and my half-sister, this is where something horrible happens.

_The door slid open, and sure enough, Dustil saw himself standing there._

_With Tova._

But…I watched her die.

_He watched himself grasp Tova's hand and felt inexplicably jealous._

_They were all smiles; no one was bloody or bruised or dying. There was no dark side in the image._

She's all right, _he thought, relieved._

_Carth shook his hand, pulling him into a hug._

That…thing he did never happened.

_He wondered why he was completely ignoring the kid._

No one killed me, _he realized. _And whoever's showing me this doesn't know how I'll react to the kid, so I'm not reacting.

I'm alive. I'm alive, and I didn't fall.

* * *

"He's coming around," Jolee announced.

Dustil's lips cracked apart and he wheezed brokenly. His eyes were still closed.

_This is what we wished on our friends, Revan. This is the so-called 'power' we thought to share. _Malak's hand was on her shoulder again.

_This is what you brought back to the galaxy._

"Someday…" Dustil coughed.

Katrina held her breath. _Someday you'll kill me? Someday you'll kill Carth? Someday you'll have your revenge on us all?_

"Someday what?"

"Someday…you're going to be the one up to your neck in bantha fodder, and I'll have to come dig _you _out."

She sat back on her knees, sighing in relief. Dustil's eyes finally opened, and he grimaced at the sight of her bloody face.

"Geeze…people are going to think my father beats you or something."

"Good job, kid," Jolee murmured, ruffling Dustil's hair. "I knew you wouldn't let them take you for a starry-eyed Padawan again."

The hard look in Dustil's eyes for a moment said that it hadn't been that easy.

"You were very lucky, Dustil," Bastila added severely. "These Sith have been taking direction from beings far beyond the most wizened Jedi knowledge. Fortunately for you, they didn't entirely know what they were doing."

_But the true Sith, the ancient Sith- they know. And Force help Dustil or anyone else when they reach this galaxy._

Katrina rose, going back to the computer console and pulling distractedly on her earlobe.

_Because of me._

She pushed aside the datapads, noticing a few bundled together, scorched and dirty. The markings on them were unmistakably Bothan.

_Leska Mayr'lo and his spies…the information they recovered._

It had been so easy to forget the larger things at stake here; the survival of the Order, the continued battles against Sith, ancient and assassins alike.

She groped within her pack for her datapad, rifling through it for the access codes Leska had given him before he died to open their collected information.

The information was indeed the locations of powerful Sith plotting against the Jedi Order, just as Leska had promised.

The locations, however, were in the Unknown Regions.

_You answer to the name, but do you answer for what you've done? You will have to consider what effect these beings that captured your Padawan have had on the galaxy, and what role you played in their resurrection. They were powerful enough to convince Mandalore to start a galactic war. Something drove them, Revan, but it was not their lost codes of arms. _

_And for some, it is not the desire to wipe out the Jedi that drives these assassins today. Some are like those you just killed, receiving orders and interpreting them. You knowingly brought hell upon the Order and the Republic. _

Her daughter, alive and unharmed despite the heated battle, pressed her heels softly against Katrina's bellybutton.

_But I forget, Revan, _Malak finished._ You wish to live your life._

"I guess I was just their test run," Dustil said hoarsely, sitting up. "But...hell, I pity whoever's their first success."

"They're never going to have one," Katrina murmured, turning back to them. "Bastila, Jolee, go check for a ship on the other side of the tunnel."

They listened (and she always wondered why, why everyone listened to her. Hadn't she always been wrong?) and jogged off towards the darker end of the tunnel.

"I'm sorry," Dustil breathed, still slightly panting. "I screwed up-"

"You didn't screw up anything. You did exactly what I told you to do. With some romantic variations."

The young Jedi Knight actually blushed. "Yeah, well, most Padawans don't end up getting captured by a bunch of Sith and need their Masters to come rescue them during their trials."

"Wanna bet, Master Jedi?"

He smiled, and she returned it. He had his father's eyes.

_Like Celyn does. And like them, she's watching._

She didn't like that her daughter's first memories of her were as a Sith Lord in various Force-induced visions; with flaky pale skin, blood red eyes and hands that could produce no other color.

_Mommy's the former Dark Lord Revan. I tried to take over the galaxy. I killed Malak, my former apprentice. Then I had a daughter and settled down._

Nope. That wasn't going to fly.

_Mommy's the former Dark Lord Revan. I tried to take over the galaxy. I killed Malak, my former apprentice. Then I had a daughter and started cleaning up my mess._

Jolee and Bastila came back.

"Busted up piece of scrap metal," Jolee reported. "They haven't been out of here for a while. Must have been getting antsy."

"You seem to have a bad habit of losing lightsabers," Katrina murmured to Bastila.

The Jedi smirked, pulling out Katrina's blade from where it had been hidden under her robes.

"One of the Sith hit it the wrong way. You should still be able to salvage the crystals." Katrina took it from her, running her fingers over its scorched hilt.

No matter. She wouldn't need it. For a little while, at least.

"Arise, Jedi Knight Dustil Onasi," Jolee said, grasping Dustil's hand and pulling him up. "And let's get out of this miserable den."

They began journeying back towards the entrance to the tunnels.

"Revan."

She glanced back at Dustil.

"There's, uh, there's a reason you're not in that little happy family portrait you just showed me, isn't there?"

She sighed, turning around without answering him.

_I'm sorry, Malak. For everything._

_I'm sorry too, Revan. Apologies are all we have left, aren't they?_


	25. Chapter 25

"Revan?"

She glanced over her shoulder to where Dathan stood.

"You never seem to have a problem saying my name," Katrina replied, turning back to the window.

He went to stand next to her, his gaze going to the same scene she was watching; Dustil and Tova.

"You never did anything particularly Sith Lord-ish to me. Why should it be a problem?"

_Lucky you, _she thought. _Unique among the galaxy for that particular trait._

Jolee and Bastila were already on the _Chaser, _leaving her to say her goodbyes.

"So, do you want to go back to Kashyyyk, Jolee?" she had asked him that morning, after they had all been healed and treated at the medical facility.

The old Jedi shrugged.

"Rumor is that the assassin situation is calming down, due to the efforts of whatever crew ended up with the _Ebon Hawk_."

For a moment she wondered if she would ever see the old freighter again.

_Hell, I at least want my droids back, _she thought, frowning. She had loaned T3 to Mission and Zaalbar before the ship was stolen, and HK…well, he wasn't exactly _welcome _around the Citadel or the Republic- one too many 'meatbag' references. She had ordered him to stay on the ship and help the Twi'lek and the Wookiee get out of trouble.

She wondered if it really was a Jedi who had the ship, and what they had done on Telos. Rumor had it they had defeated the Sith threat.

_The galaxy is full of rumors._

Rumors that she was alive, rumors that she was dead. Others said she was really a man, had killed Malak, usurped him, and taken over Korriban. Rarer were the ones that said she had walked a path of redemption that forced her to kill her former apprentice. Some theorized that she was really the ringleader of the recent Sith assassins; others said she was wandering the galaxy trying to defeat them.

_The dark side is full of lies._

"Might be time for me to fulfill my Council-ly duties and start trying to rebuild the Order," Jolee added. "I'm certainly not doing anyone any good down in the Shadowlands."

"That hut of yours might make a nice vacation home."

The old Jedi snorted. "Bah. This is one vacation I'd rather not take again in my lifetime."

_I don't suppose you want to be dumped back in the Coruscant Southern Underground?_

Bastila was back in her robes, her Mandalorian armor discarded, though the scar on her ear and the bad dye job still remained.

"I've had quite enough of bounty hunters and Mandalorians," the Jedi replied loftily.

_And Mandalore? Had enough of him too?_

Bastila only busied herself with her robes, suddenly finding her belt buckle incredibly interesting.

"Doesn't matter right now," Jolee had finally murmured, breaking the silence. "What's more important is getting you back to Telos before you pop, eh?"

Katrina folded her arms, watching Dustil talking with the girl meters below her, holding her hand. She watched them sneak a kiss beside the few bags and pieces of luggage behind the girl in a pile; ready to be taken to Coruscant.

She watched as their heads both turned to the side and Dustil's arm went around the girl's shoulder comfortingly. She followed their gazes to where Jaron Vin was being released by a security team.

The girl turned away, refusing to look. Dustil watched Vin for a moment before turning back to Tova, saying something to her. The girl apparently didn't agree. She shook her head softly, folding her arms and refusing to turn around.

She watched her former Padawan hesitate for one more moment, and then leave the girl's side to meet Vin, who was walking back across the city square alone.

She watched the two men meet, the older one hanging his head slightly, unable to look at Dustil. They exchanged words, and Vin looked past Dustil to where his daughter stood, still with her back to him.

Vin seemed to sigh heavily, his shoulders visibly lower from the weight of his worries. He nodded to Dustil, turning and continuing his solitary journey back to his home.

Her former Padawan watched the man who had betrayed him for a moment, and then returned to the girl's side.

A hand reached out to grasp her chin, and Katrina recoiled instinctively.

"I'm not going to bite," Dathan said, laughing and turning her head towards him.

Katrina watched his hands warily, trying not to be too obvious about how uncomfortable she felt with another man holding her chin.

He tilted her head to both sides, up and down, before releasing her.

"Your nose healed well. And as for your other medical condition, you've probably got a few more weeks. Plenty of time to get back to…well, wherever you're going."

"_He likes you."_

Katrina nodded stiffly, moving a few inches away from him.

She heard him exhale dejectedly, saw him rub his neck awkwardly out of the corner of her eye.

"We're going back to Telos," she finally added.

He nodded quickly.

"I'm sure Admiral Onasi will be glad to see you." The doctor seemed to test each word, with particular emphasis on 'Onasi' and 'glad'.

"He will be."

He nodded, his hands resting on the window ledge a centimeter or so from hers. She resisted the urge to slide hers down farther, to run away.

_I can't rip his jaw off too._

"He'll be glad, although I'm not quite sure how he's going to react," she began, straightening her robes around her stomach. "We didn't exactly plan this."

_Did we ever plan any of it?_

"I miss him," Katrina added. "He's helping to rebuild Telos. Being an Admiral means commanding various ships and a lot more paper shuffling than he would like. Being a Jedi means being away and never being quite sure if you're coming back again."

She smiled softly to herself.

"And being Revan…being me; well, that means things are harder."

_The ship was drafty, and she shivered but made no move towards the crew quarters, where the heat of many sleeping bodies made the _Ebon Hawk_'s inherent chill disappear._

_She couldn't sleep in the same room with them. Better her nightmares stayed here, tormenting her alone, rather than waking everyone up and causing frustration and anger._

_They seemed to be the only reactions, if Malak was to be believed, that she was capable of._

_The noise of the door made her jump, and she quickly shut her eyes. Someone was probably in search of meds, or food. It hadn't helped that the only other room on the ship to sleep was the small sickbay._

_Light filtered in from the hall, though low and sparse. She opened her eyes cautiously._

_Carth stood in the doorway, watching her silently._

_She stared back, afraid to move, afraid to say anything for fear that he would become that creature who had stood in the center of the _Ebon Hawk _and told her that he would kill her if she betrayed the Republic again._

"_You still don't sleep with the others," he finally murmured. He hadn't said a word to her since the _Leviathan_ besides curt orders and the bare minimum to operate a ship. He hadn't even been willing to leave the ship on Manaan. _

_Words seemed to abandon her, and all she could do was nod._

_He took a few cautious steps towards her, as if she were some feral animal that might turn on him at any minute._

_She watched him but still didn't move from her curled up position on the bed._

_He was so handsome. The thought pained her now, sent little electric jolts from her heart to her fingertips as she noted his broad shoulders and brown eyes._

_"Did you need something?" She didn't like the hushed way she said it, how weak and pathetic her voice sounded. _

_She didn't like the part of her that told her to be strong, told her that she didn't need him or his affection, told her that she was better than him, than all of them because she was Revan-_

_Carth half knelt by the side of the bed. She halfway pushed herself up so they were eye level._

_"I can't hate you," he said suddenly, in one breath, so rushed she barely heard it and she clung to the words, hoping desperately that it was actually what he had said._

_"I tried…Force knows I tried…I wanted to hold you responsible for everything. For my wife, for Telos…"_

_He finally met her gaze._

_"For Dustil."_

Killed your wife…saved your son.

_She wondered which one would win in the end._

_"I got the revenge I always wanted when Saul died, but it hasn't brought me the peace I thought it would."_

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no death, there is the Force.

_"And all I can think of now is the promise I made to protect you from what's to come. It's given me a reason to look past…everything else."_

_Air from the exhaust system fluttered her hair and she shivered again._

_"I can't hate you. I don't want anymore revenge. Whatever the Jedi have done, they've given you a chance to make different choices. I want you to make the right choices. I want to give you a reason to."_

"_You gave me a future. I want to give you a future, too- with me. I think I could love you, if you give me the chance."_

_Whoever she had been on Taris, Dantooine, Tatooine, Kashyyyk, and Korriban longed to tell him that she loved him too, that she was happy, that this was what she had been waiting for._

_Who she was now, en route to the Star Forge system, told her that she didn't deserve this._

_"I don't know what's going to happen," she finally said._

_"Neither do I," Carth replied evenly. "Does that really matter if we love each other?"_

_Some kind of lump was in her throat, keeping her from speaking even if the words came to her._

"_In case something happens," he continued. "In case something happens to me, because something will have to happen to me before I let anything happen to you, I just wanted to-"_

_She leaned over the bed and kissed him._

_He seemed stiff for a moment, and she wondered how long it had been since he had been kissed, if the last ones before her had been from his long dead wife._

_She wondered briefly what the last kiss she had gotten was._

_It didn't matter. She had memorized every one from him since waking up on the _Endar Spire_- from the first one right after she had come up from the Shadowlands, breathless and covered in kinrath goo, but alive; to the fevered evening in this very room after Korriban; to now, when she thought her jaw might ache from wanting his kiss so badly._

_The muscles in his face relaxed; one hand was on her chin, the other in her hair._

_They would reach the Star Forge system soon; where battles would have to be fought that she somehow knew the galaxy wouldn't let him be standing behind her with his blasters and his smile for._

_She hoarded his kiss in her memories, hoping that she would remember it when the end came. _

_When the end had come for Revan, she had had no such memory._

"You're not trying to seduce my sister, are you, Dathan?"

Katrina turned to see Phineas entering the room, finally released from his last few meetings with the city council.

Dathan exchanged a glance with her, stepping back respectfully.

"Just wishing her well. Her and the Admiral." He extended a hand towards her, and Katrina gripped it, nodding.

"I'll be sure to refer all my pregnant Jedi friends to the only doctor I know of who's also willing to act as a bodyguard."

He smirked.

"After you, Revan, I don't think I can handle another Jedi."

The stare of his icy blue eyes lingered on her for a moment. Finally Doctor Eli Dathan turned and headed towards the doors.

_You should tell him to try and stop hating Mandalorians, _she murmured to her brother.

_He can't stop hating them any less than I can stop hating the Sith. They turned us both into monsters._

She glanced up at her brother, whose brown hair was straight and slicked back, his mayoral robes perfectly fitted. No one who hadn't been present the past few months would have known the Mayor of Mikael had been having any problems at all.

She waited until the heavy double doors had finally closed softly behind the doctor and she was left alone with Phineas.

"Your ship's refueled, restocked, and ready to go," Phineas murmured, clasping his hands in front of him. "On behalf of the people of Mikael, you have my eternal gratitude."

She stared at him for a minute.

"That was canned."

He broke into a smile.

"Maybe you've just heard it too often, Jedi Revan."

She couldn't hate him- it was too hard trying to concentrate on what he had done as a Sith when he was the only person in the galaxy left who had known her before she had become a Sith herself.

"Am I ever going to get to meet this Republic nobody of yours?" Phineas said. "I am an uncle now, you know. I do have certain rights."

"Maybe you should stop becoming overlord of every government you happen to stumble into, get out to Telos sometime, and see for yourself."

Her brother rolled his eyes, smirking. "Never mind. Maybe I'm not that interested after all."

_It's not going to be another four years until I see you again, is it?_

Katrina looked up, meeting the hopeful gaze of her own familiar hazel eyes. "I hope not."

There was no way of knowing, and she didn't exactly know how to tell him that in maybe four years or so she was going to embark on a mission that had no known destination and no clear goal. Her answer was, at least, the truth.

Phineas frowned.

_A lie by omission is still a lie. You're going where?_

_Nowhere, for right now._

He narrowed his eyes, staring her down.

_Don't you remember what happened the last time you decided to ignore everyone's advice and run off?_

Katrina gripped the windowsill tightly for a moment.

The Mandalorian Wars, which turned into the Jedi Civil Wars, which turned into the never-ending legacy of her life.

"You've got being the Mayor of Mikael to help you atone," she began slowly, turning around. "Dathan's got his life as a doctor, Dustil and Bastila have their promotions to Knighthood and their lives as Jedi."

"All I have are memories and visions that keep coming back, and the bad is fast starting to outweigh the good. I can't justify trying to pretend that I'm just another Jedi. I can't stop feeling guilty for being in love, for having successfully trained a Padawan, for having a daughter."

_You don't have anything to feel guilty about. The galaxy would be speaking Mandalorian if it weren't for you-_

"And half the Jedi Order would still be alive."

_You can't blame yourself for everything-_

"I don't. Just the things I'm responsible for."

Phineas sighed, exasperated. "For the sake of your Republic nobody, I hope your child is nothing like you."

She glared at him. "For your sake, I hope the two of you never meet."

He grasped her shoulders for a minute.

"As children we were competitors and for most of our lives we were enemies, whether we knew it or not," he said softly. "But you're more my sister now than you ever were, Revan. If you ever need help, no matter how much you and I pretend that word doesn't apply to us…"

_You know who to call._

Katrina hugged him, and he didn't make any kind of wise crack as he bent himself over her stomach to return the embrace.

"The Force has got to have something to do with the way we keep running into each other," he murmured.

She rumpled his hair one last time. "Maybe the galaxy's just not that big."

_Not for people like us, at least, _he replied.

Katrina turned and headed out of the office, down the hall and into the lift, sighing as it began its descent to the ground level of the city center.

Her reflection sighed back at her from the steel doors of the elevator, and she reached up to smooth back her brown hair, adjusting and readjusting her robes, putting her braid over her shoulder and back behind her again.

Her daughter Celyn grasped at her ribs, slightly tickling and slightly itching at the same time.

"_Mommy?"_

_Mommy's going to leave you someday soon._

Best to begin without any lies at all.

_But first Mommy's taking you back to Telos, Celyn._

She smiled, liking the sound of the name, liking the sound of their destination. The lift doors opened, and she continued on towards the docks.


	26. Chapter 26

_She watched the traffic of speeders, shuttles, and docking ships go by out the windows of the Citadel, and wondered for a moment if he was going to come._

_Maybe he wouldn't head back this way after Grenn notified him of her arrival. Maybe he would go straight to the dock, even though Dustil had already left and the _Jedi Chaser _was no longer there._

_She frowned. Maybe this would cause more trouble than it was worth-_

_The door behind her finally opened. She listened as he inhaled sharply and pulled out his weapon, smiling to herself._

_"You're very trigger-happy lately, Admiral."_

_He lowered his blaster, laughing quietly._

_"You really need to find a new way of getting my attention-"_

_She turned, watching silently as his eyes roamed over her as they usually did when she came back, checking for any new injuries, any clues that might tell him just what she had been up to without him._

_She watched as his eyes froze on the most obvious of them- her protruding stomach._

_Carth exhaled. "Uh…There's one way, I guess."_

_She bit her lip to keep from laughing. _This isn't funny. This is serious-

_His mouth twitched as he came towards her, alternating between scratching his neck and holding his chin. "When did this happen?" _

_She raised an eyebrow at him. "I imagine around eight or nine months ago."_

_"Cute."_

_Her own hand went unconsciously to her stomach, a slight pressure on the place where her hand rested the only response._

_He paused in front of her, slack jawed and quiet._

_"Were you this speechless when Dustil was born?" _

_He glanced up at her sardonically. "When Dustil was born I was on a strike with my squadron."_

_The awkward silence reminded her why she was here letting him know she was pregnant eight months after the fact, why her lightsaber was buried underneath her layers of clothing. _

And that definitely isn't funny.

_"Where is Dustil, anyways?" Carth murmured._

_"Giving a girl a ride to Coruscant." _

_The pilot's eyebrow rose. "A girl?"_

_"Tenacious little blonde. I think she's afraid of me." _

_He laughed, reaching out with his hand to touch her chin, her temple, her hair. "I wouldn't blame her." _

_She fingered the insignia on his uniform; the clean lines of the Republic Fleet. _

"_What the hell am I doing?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head and giving her a rakish grin._

_"This…this is…great. Wonderful. I couldn't think of a better way for you to come back, gorgeous." His hands were on her stomach but his lips were on her face._

_Celyn had a sudden kicking fit, like Carth was invading her personal space._

_"Whoa. That…takes me back," he murmured unsteadily. _

_Katrina touched his cheek softly. "I'm sure she's wondering why my heart's suddenly beating a lot faster."_

_"She?" Carth said, hands inspecting her bellybutton like it might confirm the information._

_"Celyn." _

_"Celyn…" he repeated skeptically, kneeling slightly to listen to her abdomen._

_She smiled, unable to ignore Lovesick Padawan Katrina's joy that the scene she had idly dreamed of during the Star Forge months was real and happening before her eyes. Carth Onasi loved her, she was about to have a child and they would raise it together-_

_But Lovesick Padawan Katrina was not her real name. Her real name was Revan. And Revan was happy with the scene too, but she understood how things worked and the truth about this moment._

_That it couldn't last._

_"Carth…We found something out there...something else was behind the Mandalorian Wars…" _

_"That's a swift change of subject," he said, still chuckling softly against her stomach._

_She fumbled for words, trying to remind herself of the speech she had been preparing since Chael, wondering if it could wait until later, until after Celyn was born._

_No. If she didn't tell him now, she never would, which meant she would never go. She would crawl back inside the life of Lovesick Padawan Katrina, who was willing to let people call her Revan but unwilling to take on the responsibility that came with it._

_Her usual eloquence failed her and she doggedly tried to plow ahead._

_"There's something I'm going to have to do someday…And I can't take you, or Dustil, or Celyn with me…I can't take anyone I love-"_

_Carth Onasi looked up at her sharply. He sighed, standing up straight. His hands gently massaged her shoulders._

_"Somehow, Revan, I think I know what you're going to say."_

_FIN_


End file.
